Resolutions
by RenRenegade
Summary: One moment in time can rewrite the history of the 100; one moment can change their lives forever. Bellamy tried to warn Clarke of the darkness growing in Finn's heart, but could it be too late to save the man that she used to love from destroying everything that the 100 had built? Set during S2E5. Slow burn. Rated M for violence, adult language, and adult situations.
1. Chapter 1-Unknown

**A/N: Hi Everyone. This is my first posted story. I would ask for you to break it in slowly, but I know that with this story that won't be likely. As a warning, the story will have violence, adult language, and adult themes. Later chapters will feature lemony goodness sprinkled throughout the chapters.**

**Disclaimer: I sadly do not own the rights to the 100 or the characters. I also do not own any lyrics that are posted. Additionally, this story does have spoilers from season 2.**

**Summary: Bellamy, Clarke, and Octavia are on their way to the grounder village to rescue Finn and Murphy. Bellamy tried to warn Clarke, but could it be too late? Set during and after episode S2E5. Violence, adult language, and adult themes.**

Mumford and Sons- I Gave You All

How can you say that your truth is better than ours?  
>Shoulder to shoulder, now brother, we carry no arms<br>The blind man sleeps in the doorway, his home  
>If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy I could have won<p>

Resolutions- Chapter 1- Unknown

Octavia led the two leaders through the forest. The urgency of finding Finn and Murphy before it was too late was pressing down on the three teenagers. They continued to stomp through the wet dirt. The sloshing of their feet in the mud and breathless pants were the only noises that were heard from the survivors.

Bellamy could feel the tension in the air. He gazed left and right before settling on the path they were taking.

As they exited into a small clearing, Octavia stopped suddenly. Clarke and Bellamy's eyes widened as they took in the large statue of the man sitting down. Bellamy turned to Octavia.

"This is it. Which way to the village, O?" Bellamy questioned impatiently. He watched her freeze. The blood slowly drained from her face. Her face contorted in pain. "Octavia, what's wrong?"

"The reapers came from there." Her voice broke off, "I couldn't save him Bel. I couldn't save him."

Bellamy watched as Octavia broke down, her body crumpling before him. She was trying to contain her pain over Lincoln going missing, but it finally had caught up to her. Bellamy stepped forward to his little sister. He grasped her neck and pulled her to him.

"It's okay." He murmured. "It will be okay." Octavia sobbed quietly against Bellamy. Her sadness had been building up throughout the trip from the Ark. Seeing Lincoln's village, finally released the waves of pain that she felt over his disappearance.

"I know it is hard, but we will find out what happened to him, Octavia." Bellamy looked over Octavia's shoulder. Clarke stood helplessly. Clarke opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the pops of gunfire that silenced the creatures in the forest. An eerie silence filled the air. Octavia, Clarke, and Bellamy froze in place and crouched low to the ground as they listened for an impending attack.

Bellamy watched Clarke carefully as she angled her body towards the noise. Another set of shots rang through the air. A gasp of air left her mouth as the realization that Finn and Murphy might be imminent danger.

Without another thought, Clarke darted away.

"Clarke! Wait!" Bellamy yelled. He pushed his legs to move, racing towards Clarke. His long legs quickly caught up to the short blonde girl before passing her.

The sound of the bullets grew louder as he ran into an opening of the forest. As he cleared the forest's edge, the gunfire of misery assaulted his ears. Bellamy's head whipped left and right as he searched for the source of the pain.

In the middle of the grounder's village stood Finn and Murphy. Grounder bodies were strewn across the earth. The smell of gunpowder and smoke filtered through the air. He looked towards a small animal pen that contained grounders wailing over the loss of their family and neighbors. Women, children, and elderly grounders cowered with a handful of men.

Octavia leapt into action while he stood momentarily stunned by the unexpected death and violence. She ran over and crouched next to one of the slain villagers. Her fingers drifting delicately over his arm.

Near him, Clarke finally made a move to enter the village. She seemed to be in a haze as her head darted back and forth, taking in the deceased grounders.

Bellamy followed Clarke in heavy silence. He was horror-stricken. These people were clearly not warriors. Their bodies were too old; too young. Wrinkled skin and youthful faces stared up at him.

He swallowed the bile that threatened to come up as he took in the glazed, brown eyes of a child no older than ten. A trickle of blood dribbled down her slack mouth.

Clarke and Bellamy wandered into the center of the village. They were mere feet from a stunned Finn.

"Clarke?" Finn whispered as he caught sight of the blonde women. A surge of happiness raced through his veins as he realized that she was okay. Clarke was alive and safe.

"I found you." He took a step towards her. She cringed back slightly from Finn.

Bellamy could feel himself panicking at the sight of Finn moving towards Clarke. There was something not right with him.

When he spoke to Clarke the night before, he meant what he said. Finn was changing. He was quickly morphing into someone unrecognizable.

When Bellamy first met the boy sent to earth for an unsanctioned spacewalk, he was a mild irritant to Bellamy. Finn and Clarke tried to create a civilized world based on the Ark's government. Bellamy knew that this was an optimistic, but unlikely concept. The rules on Earth were different. If the 100 were to survive, then they needed to defend themselves.

At this moment, Bellamy wanted to have the peacekeeper back. Even as Bellamy watched Finn, he could see there was something unhinged about the boy. Finn's eyes gleamed a little too brightly. There was no remorse over the massacre he had committed.

Bellamy grabbed Clarke's arm and attempted to pull her back. Clarke pulled away from his grip.

"What did you do Finn?" Clarke's voice softly cried. Finn ignored her question.

"Clarke, I was so scared that you were dead? What happened?" He took another step towards her. The gun in his hand waved dangerously.

"Finn, you need to stop. Put the gun down." Bellamy's voice was strong but quiet. Soothingly, he held his hands up in a sign of peace and took a step in front of Clarke. His body shielding her from the potential danger. Finn looked down at the hand holding the gun. A look of surprise overtook his features as if he couldn't even recognize the weapon.

He looked up with a confused look on his face. His face turned ashen as he looked from the gun to the bodies around him. A pleading look took over his face, "I had to Clarke. I had to do this to save you." He took another step towards Bellamy and Clarke.

Clarke trembled in anger and fear. "Look at these people, Finn! You didn't have to kill them. I wasn't even here. They never hurt me. These grounders are innocent, but you condemned them to die," Clarke shouted.

"You don't understand, Clarke." A menacing snarl lit up Finn's face. Bellamy felt that fear rise up in him again as he realized that Clarke was adding more fuel to the fire.

Leaning forward, Bellamy whispered quietly in Clarke's ear, "Clarke, stop. You are not helping him. We need to get him away from that gun and this village."

Clarke's eyes darted back and forth between Finn, the villagers, and Bellamy. Bellamy was right. They needed to get as far away from these people as possible.

"I need you to understand that I did this for you." Finn pleaded. His words were a slap in Clarke's face. Guilt clamped around her heart and stomach as she realized that her disappearance caused the senseless murder of these people. She wanted to throw up as that thought overwhelmed her, but she knew that she needed to pull herself together.

"I understand." Clarke lied, "I am just glad that you are safe." She threw in a small smile even though it was destroying her. Finn's face split into a smile. He rushed forward and pulled Clarke into his arms.

The gun lay forgotten in the mud. Bellamy quickly moved forward and grabbed the gun. He turned around and could see the fear, anger, and exhaustion on his co-leaders face. Her arms lay still at her side. Her gray, blue eyes were wide and glowing with emotion.

Bellamy clenched his fists at the sight of Finn so close to Clarke. Finn was dangerous, but what could they do?

Clarke stepped out of Finn's hug. Looking up at his face, she said, "We need to go back to the Ark. We can regroup there." She stepped away and took another look around the camp. She knew that she would never forget this image.

She turned her head towards the villagers. She wanted to say something. The healer in her was begging to fix their pain, but the words in head wouldn't escape her mouth. Instead, she turned and fled from the village like a coward. Her guilt was hammering against her head. Finn clumsily followed. The grounders watched warily from the ground as the murderer left the village.

Bellamy looked at Octavia where she was still crouched near a fallen boy.

"O, we need to leave." Bellamy said. Octavia looked up startled.

"I am not leaving them," She stated in a heated voice. Bellamy flinched back from the animosity in her tone.

"Octavia, we have to go now." Bellamy demanded.

"He saved my life, Bel." She looked down at the boy on the ground. Her hand brushed the dirt away from his cheek. "I'm going to stay and help them."

Bellamy scoffed. "I will not leave you here. They will kill you. Stand up now before I carry you out of this village."

The grounder next to Octavia looked up at Bellamy. "My people will not kill her." He said.

Bellamy glared at the man who spoke. This grounder was a large man with brunet knotted hair. Tattoos swirled around his face. Soft, gray eyes stared cautiously at Bellamy.

"Why should I believe you?" Bellamy said.

"My name is Nyko. I am the healer of this village. Octavia of the sky people saved my life. She saved my leader's life. We are not enemies. Despite what happened here today, we do not seek war." His eyes were solemn as they stared into Bellamy's brown eyes.

"Octavia, please don't do this." He pleaded. He couldn't protect her here.

"Bel, I have no choice. They-"

"You do have a choice!" Bellamy interrupted.

"Not one that I can take. I need to help fix Finn's mistake." Her voice was soft, but strong. He could see the stubborn resolve in her eyes.

Bellamy was at a loss. His hatred for the grounders grew immensely as the realization came that he would have to leave her in this godforsaken place. The urge to throw her over his shoulder swelled up in him again, but the thought disappeared as he continued to gaze down at her determined face.

"Please, Bel." Octavia whispered. He looked at her once more before he turned back to the grounder.

"Grounder, you better keep your promise or I will kill you myself." He glared down at the healer.

"If she dies, then I will accept my death." Nyko stated simply. Octavia jumped up from the ground and hugged Bellamy. Bellamy wrapped his arms around his sister. His heart felt like it was jumping in his throat. He cleared his throat before he whispered, "Until we meet again."

Octavia pulled back and breathed back, "Until we meet again."

Her lips lifted into a half-smile before she backed away.

"You and Murphy should catch up with Clarke and Finn." She said. Bellamy looked over at his shoulder to see that Murphy had not left with Clarke, but was instead standing guard near him.

Bellamy gave one last look before he turned and escaped the village. Murphy trailed slowly behind him.

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><p><strong>AN: Feel free to leave comments. I would love to hear what you have to say.**


	2. Chapter 2-Lost Lamb

**A/N: I already cranked out the second chapter. I was so inspired by the number of views. I couldn't keep myself from writing. Typically, I will update once a week. But, who knows at this point. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the plot or characters to the 100. I also do not own any of the mentioned song.**

How to Save A Life- Fray

As he goes left and you stay right  
>Between the lines of fear and blame<br>You begin to wonder why you came

Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend  
>Somewhere along in the bitterness<p>

Resolutions- Chapter 2- Lost Lamb

Bellamy and Murphy quickly caught up to Clarke and Finn. Clarke was leaning against a tree. Her head was bowed in despair. Her hands were wrapped around a thick oak branch. It looked like the tree was the only thing keep her up. Bellamy could practically see her body swaying back and forth in exhaustion.

Bellamy could relate. His heart was pounding relentlessly. His body was overwhelmed by hunger, exhaustion, and his emotions. He could feel the fear and worry for Octavia battling the anger and resentment that he felt towards the situation.

Clarke looked up at the approach of the two boys. She turned her confused gaze at Bellamy.

"Where's Octavia?" She asked.

Bellamy looked down, kicking the nearest stone furiously before saying, "She decided to stay." He tried to avoid the stares from his companions.

"What! You can't be serious, Bellamy," She said in disbelief.

"Unfortunately, I am," He mumbled gruffly.

"We need to go back for her," She insisted. Clarke didn't want to leave Octavia behind. She had quickly become friends with the other Blake sibling. The two had formed a tight bond during their time at the dropship. They were the only two that didn't bow down to Bellamy's tyranny. In Clarke's book, that meant a lot.

As a child, Clarke had a hard time making friends. With her parent's status on the council, other children resented her. She was often called a snob or spoiled brat.

She was extremely lonely until her parents introduced her to Wells. Under the circumstances, they were able to manufacture a relationship. Both children were desperate to have someone to talk to.

Through the years, the two friends would talk about everything. They shared their interests, their desires, and even their fears.

But, now he was gone too.

Clarke couldn't lose another person.

Bellamy gave her a glare that demanded her silence. These were the times where he wished that he could control her like the other members of the 100.

Instead, Clarke continued on, "You don't know what they are capable of, Bellamy."

"Don't be stupid, Princess. I know exactly what the grounders can do," Bellamy said sneering at her.

"Then, let's go." She made a move to turn around.

"You think I want to leave her here, Clarke. I don't have a choice in this case." Bellamy was desperately trying to control his temper. He could feel it boiling just under the surface.

"They could kill her," She whispered beseechingly.

"I KNOW THAT!" He roared. His fists were clenched at his sides. Sweat and rain water trickled down his tanned skin. His dark eyes glared murderously at Clarke.

He needed to calm down. He couldn't handle Clarke's words when part of him wanted to follow her back to the village and save his sister.

Without another word, He stormed off into the woods. Clarke listened to the sound of his heavy footsteps crashing across the forest brush. Murphy moved forward from where he had stood near Bellamy.

"Great job, Princess," Murphy scoffed, "You're sensitivity is astounding."

Clarke frowned as she realized that Murphy and Finn were still there. Finn was staring off into the woods while Murphy watched Clarke carefully.

"What are you even doing here, Murphy?" She took in the slim boy who was holding the gun. The last time she had seen Murphy, he looked like death hung-over.

He hadn't changed much sense then. His body was long and looked like it had been deprived of nourishment for too long. His dull, brown hair hung wet and limp. The deep lacerations were fading into long scratches.

"I was trying to save the day and rescue you," He jeered.

"Like hell you were," She spat.

"You don't believe me. That hurts," He said mockingly, "Ask Finn over there."

Clarke turned over to where Finn was sitting on a fallen log. He hadn't moved an inch. His eyes were glazed over. Clarke didn't know if she should check to see if he was hurt or leave him undisturbed.

An image of the village flashed through her mind. Clarke knew that she couldn't approach Finn. She was still reeling from the damage that he caused. Part of her couldn't accept that he hurt those people. This wasn't the same person that tried to create the peace treaty with the grounders.

This wasn't Finn.

Huffing, Clarke said, "I'm going to find Bellamy. Don't do anything stupid." Clarke ignored the smirk that lit up Murphy's face. She left the two men, and walked in the direction that Bellamy disappeared through.

Her mind wandered back and forth as she walked. Something was wrong. Finn's temperament and attitude changed. He seemed lost in his own thoughts. In the few minutes since being reunited in the village, Clarke could tell that his mind was scattered. He seemed confused.

Maybe there was something medically wrong with Finn. If that was the case, Clarke hoped that her mom could help him.

Even though things ended between Finn and Clarke when Raven came down from the Ark, Clarke wanted him to be okay. He was one of the reasons that Clarke was alive. His advice and companionship kept her sane when Bellamy's reign of terror almost caused the camp to destroy itself.

Clarke knew that they would always have a sense of camaraderie between them.

Dismissing that thought, Clarke continued to search for Bellamy. Pushing through the damp trees and thick woven vines, Clarke began to understand that Bellamy had gone a lot farther than she originally believed.

Idiotic boy, she thought. He chose now of all times to disappear? Clarke could practically hear the grounders sharpening their weapons, but Bellamy thought that now is the time to disappear into a forest filled with pretty much every deadly thing imaginable. An irritated growl escaped her mouth.

After forty minutes of searching, Clarke became more frustrated. After trekking through the forest all day, Clarke wanted to go lay down somewhere dry and sleep. The rain had turned into a hot, sticky, humid evening that saturated her clothes and caused drops of sweat to roll down her forehead. Her blonde hair was sticking to her neck, leaving Clarke irritable.

"Bellamy!" She shouted out. He had chosen the worst moment to vanish.

Clarke looked around her. This area was unfamiliar. The soft, jade ferns that were scattered on the floor had changed into harsh, spiked bushes. The leaves were edged with wicked points.

The trees had also changed. Most of the trees were smaller than they were when she began to search for Bellamy. The bark was rough with a dark, malevolent coloring to it. Furry vines crept up the thin trunks of the tree Clarke felt an icy bolt of fear as she realized that she had managed to get herself lost.

Anger pulsed through her body. She should have been more careful. Her carelessness allowed her to get lost.

Clarke spun around.

She tried to trace her steps, but knew it was futile at this point. Dusk was falling quickly in the forest. The trees blocked out the already limited light from the sun making it impossible for Clarke to see her footprints in the soil.

Clarke was also facing another problem. With the sweltering heat, and the lack of water and sleep, she was growing more and more unsteady on her feet. The world began to tilt left and right. Clarke placed a hand on one of the trees. Her body hunched forward as a wave of nausea hit her. Desperation clawed at her stomach.

Calm down, she said to herself. She took a deep breath before letting it go. Clarke decided that she needed to make a plan, but more importantly she needed to take a break before she continued on.

The heat was becoming unbearable. A drop of sweat rolled down her temple, slowly running around the curve of her face, before dropping to the pale skin of her clavicle.

She took the corner of her gray shirt and wiped the moisture away from her face. She lifted her face towards the sky before deciding that laying down would help her cool down.

She let her body slide down the tree. She decided that five minutes would be enough. Afterwards, she would search for Bellamy, Finn, and Murphy.

Clarke leaned back and closed her eyes. She tried to stay awake, but the day's events quickly caught up with her. Her body slumped sideways as she sluggishly slipped into a deep sleep.

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><p><strong>AN: Feel free to leave comments. I love constructive criticism. Reviews= Inspiration= Quicker updates**


	3. Chapter 3-Fallen Princess

**A/N: This chapter is almost twice the size of the first two chapters. Let's see if quality and quantity worked together. Again, I was so inspired by the amount of readers. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the 100, its' plot, or its' characters. This story is rated M for sexually explicit scenes, harsh language, and violence.**

Crawl by Superchic(k)

O Lord, where are you?  
>Do not forget me here<br>I cry in silence  
>Can you not see my tears<p>

When all have left me  
>And hope has disappeared<br>You'll find me here

Resolutions- Chapter 3- Fallen Princess

Bellamy slipped back into their temporary camp. He had spent a significant amount of time calming himself and felt like he could handle Clarke's insistent questions.

"Oh, Crap." Bellamy looked up to see Murphy looking warily at him.

"What do you mean 'oh, crap?'" Bellamy stared him down with a dark, intense gaze. He could see the nervousness in Murphy's posture and the way his eyes shifted nervously. Bellamy looked around the small space, searching for the cause of Murphy's caginess. He froze quickly as he took in the Finn. Alone.

"Where the hell is Clarke?" Bellamy growled.

"She followed you an hour ago. I figured that she found you and, you know, were working things out." Murphy's eyebrows rose suggestively. Bellamy's eyes squinted in response to Murphy's assumption.

"No, she didn't find me," he replied shortly. "We need to find her. Now."

In all the time that Bellamy spoke, Finn did not move.

"Finn, did you hear me?" Finn slowly turned to Bellamy. His glazed eyes met Bellamy's piercing ones.

"Clarke is missing." Remembering Finn's competency in earth skills, he asked, "Can you track her footprints?"

When Finn heard Clarke's name, the haze began to lift. He stood up unsteadily and silently nodded his head.

Turning towards Murphy, Bellamy asked, "Which way did she go?" Murphy nervously pointed towards the northern edge of the little grove. Bellamy could sense that Murphy was worried about Bellamy focusing his fury on him. Bellamy wished that he could be angry at Murphy, but he knew that it was his fault that Clarke disappeared. She was looking for him, not Murphy.

Finn immediately went and kneeled down to a spot near where Murphy pointed. His large fingers delicately stroked the green tendrils of a fern before drifting down and touching the dark soil. His fingers rubbed the wet earth between his index finger and thumb.

"We need to hurry," Finn said. "The rain has made the trail harder to follow. If it rains again, even a little, we will need to find another way to her." Finn took off into the trees without another word.

Bellamy felt relieved as Finn spoke. Finn's haunted look was replaced with a steady look of determination. He knew that Finn's focus was on finding Clarke, which meant that Bellamy could concentrate on finding Clarke without worrying about Finn snapping again. Bellamy watched Finn carefully step through the terrain. Occasionally, he would bend down and carefully inspect a broken twig or various prints in the mud.

The small group continued to steadily moving forward through the bright forest. Bellamy was confident that they would find Clarke soon. Part of him wanted to call out for her, but it was too risky. Though that village of grounders claimed that they wouldn't retaliate, it didn't mean that they were now safe from all predators.

Finn began to weave back and forth between the trees. He bent down in one place for a few minutes, then would twist his head side to side. A look of confusion overtook his face as he scanned nearby.

Bellamy noticed that the path had become more and more erratic with each step that they took. Finn would dart between to trees, loop back, and then take off in another direction.

Small grunts of frustration escaped from Finn's mouth. Bellamy stopped and looked back at Murphy. Murphy's face held a look of confusion as he followed Finn and Bellamy.

"We good, Finn?" Bellamy asked hesitantly. Finn looked between Bellamy and the tracks before shaking his head.

"What's going on then?" A small frown sat on Finn's face.

"I'm not sure. These are definitely the tracks that we started with from the beginning. I know that these aren't someone else's, but Clarke's prints are showing that she has circled around a couple times in this area."

"She is probably lost. She might be trying to find us."

"Not like this. The circles are small. It isn't like she is attempting to turn around. And look over here."

Bellamy stepped closer to Finn. Finn used the point of his boots to touch near the base of a tree. Bellamy looked at the small pair of shoeprints. The shape was clearly defined.

"See how her steps are here. She took two steps and then over here something happened." Finn moved several feet to the left. He showed Bellamy the spot where her boots became less defined in the mud. One print looked marred.

"Maybe she tripped on something," questioned Murphy.

"Maybe. But in the last ten minutes, I have seen something similar at least four times. Clarke isn't that clumsy."

"What are you thinking?" Bellamy's voice was low as he asked the tracker for his opinion.

"She might be hurt, but I haven't found anything that proves that."

"Okay, we can work with that. No blood is a good thing. Let's keep moving. Lights starting to fade and I can feel it cooling down." The air had begun to change with the sunlight fading. The rain had left a cool breeze. The wind caused the leaves to shift into a cacophony of sounds.

Bellamy pulled his shirt away from his body. The dampness from the rain and the cool air cast a biting chill. Goosebumps broke across his tanned arm. The short, light-colored hairs stood up on end.

Finn didn't need Bellamy to urge him forward. He began to frantically search the forest floor. He broke into a light jog.

"She fell again over here!" shouted Finn. Bellamy looked around him warily. He wasn't sure what happened to the Princess, but yelling would surely draw out their enemies.

Bellamy carefully watched the gigantic trees for movement. The trees were a deep jade color, highlighted by the dewy drops of water. Wind shook the leaves causing the water to spill over them.

Bellamy swept his gaze over the area again. Clarke had to be around here.

Ten minutes turned into twenty minutes. The day's end was officially impeding their search. Finn's eyes squinted tightly to see the tracks in the darkness. Their feet tripped over fallen tree branches and shifting gravel. The limbs of the trees grasped at their shirts and left small cuts where they ripped at the men's skin.

Bellamy stopped when he heard a grunting noise behind him. He turned around towards the sound. Murphy was kneeling on all fours. Despite the cool air, his face was tinged red and covered in sweat. His breath was uneven. Another groan left his mouth.

"Finn, we need to slow down," Bellamy said regretfully.

Finn turned towards him angrily.

"We can't slow down," he said fiercely.

"Look at Murphy. He can't continue like this." As if planned, Murphy expelled the little food and water he ate that morning. Bellamy's face scrunched up in disgust.

"We can't stop looking, Bellamy. She could be in danger."

"We will be at risk if we can't defend ourselves. There are other things to think about." Finn glowered at Bellamy heatedly.

"You stay then. I am going to keep searching. Give me a gun." His hand reached out in entreaty.

"Don't be an idiot, Finn. We need to stay as a group." Bellamy clutched the gun closer to his body.

"I don't care about what you do or what you think, Bellamy. I thought I made that blatantly obvious from the beginning. Now, give me the damn gun so I can go after Clarke."

"No."

"That wasn't a question." Finn surged forward. His body was angled to knock Bellamy down. Bellamy lunged forward meeting Finn on. He let his weight collide against the other man. A grunt escaped Bellamy.

Physically, Bellamy and Finn were evenly matched. During their time on the planet, Bellamy and Finn changed. Like many other men and women of the 100, the harsh environment cultivated thick muscles on their arms and legs. Bellamy was a few inches taller than Finn, but Finn had a sturdier build.

Bellamy felt sharp jabs hit his ribs. Using one leg, he knocked Finn to the ground. The two males became so entangled together that Bellamy fell on top of him. A small groan escaped him as he felt a bony knee bash against his hip.

"Finn! Stop!" yelled Bellamy. In the background, he could hear Murphy shouting. A savage roar exploded from Finn's mouth.

A fist flew towards his face. He felt the heat and pain from the solid blow delivered to his jaw by Finn. The taste of blood filled his mouth.

Something snapped inside of Bellamy. The anger that always simmered just under the Bellamy's skin burst through, overtaking the small amount of control that Bellamy clung too.

Weaving left, Bellamy managed to locks Finn's arms under his body. Bellamy's forearm pressed against Finn's neck hard enough to cut off the air supply.

Small choked gasps exited Finn's mouth. He tried to squirm underneath, but couldn't gain any advantage of the man who was a soldier-in-training on the Ark. Bellamy held on tightly until Finn stopped struggling.

"I've always hated you." Bellamy pressed his forearm harder on Finn's neck. The boy's face turned a dangerous shade of red. "But unlike you, I am using my head. Stop fighting me and suck it up. I want to find Clarke just as much as you. We can't find her if you are acting like a moron."

Bellamy relaxed his grip on Finn and stood up. He solemnly watched Finn turn onto his side and gasp for breath. His deep breaths mingled with the wail of the wind.

"Finn-" Bellamy stopped short as he heard the tortured screams of a creature echoing through the dark forest. Bellamy's body tensed as he recognized the pained wails of a girl. One thought echoed through his mind.

Clarke.

He lunged away from Finn and Murphy into the woods. His feet sloshed through the mud. Numerous times, Bellamy slipped nearly falling to his knees. The screaming continued. Bellamy was getting closer to the calls. He whispered a silent pray.

"Please let me get there in time," he pleaded.

Bellamy pulled his gun up. Clicking the safety off, he charged into a break in the woods. Looking around, he searched for the noise. Two legs stuck out from behind a tree. They thrashed back and forth on the ground.

"Clarke!" Bellamy shouted. A strange feeling overtook him as he raced over to his co-leader. He kneeled down next to her form searching for the cause of her pain. She twitched on to her side before vomiting.

Behind him, he heard two people crash into the clearing.

He looked at them in a beseeching manner. "What's wrong with her?" They stood shocked and silent.

Bellamy gently put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her towards his body. Through her shirt, he could feel the heat of her skin despite the cool air swirling through the woods. Her olive top felt damp with sweat and mud.

He pushed back the hair from her face carefully. More heat radiated off of her forehead. When he finally pushed the damp, blonde curls away from her face, he was able to glance at her face. Her skin seemed waxy and pulled taut against the bones of her face. Dark rings shadowed her eyes. Soft pants escaped from her mouth between the screeching.

"She's feverish."

He winced as another round of shrieks overwhelmed his ears. Bellamy tried to think about what could have caused this. The only thing he could consider was that she was poisoned, but when did that happen? Why was it only working now?

He began pulling the sleeves of her shirt up. Her skin burned his where they touched. He turned her arm, looking for an injection mark or blemish. A red blush casted blotchy patches on her lightly tanned skin. Bellamy pulled up the legs of her pants even going as far as taking her boots and socks off. He ran his hand over the silky, soft skin. Nothing was there.

A choking gasp fell from Clarke's mouth before a rush of liquid raced up from her stomach. Bellamy turned her to her side a second before the vomit covered the ground.

"Goddammit!" cried Bellamy. Bellamy's fingers returned to the area around her stomach. He pulled the shirt up to cover her chest. Behind him, Finn made a noise of anger before quieting himself. Even he could tell that there was nothing sexual about the feather-like touch of Bellamy's fingers. This exploration was purely to discover the source of Clarke's sickness.

He turned her body so that he could see her back.

A small whimper escaped her as his finger trailed up her spine.

Taking a deep breath, Bellamy realized that he would have to pull her shirt up even higher. It was unavoidable considering he still had not found the cause of Clarke's sickness.

He dragged the fabric up over her chest so that it rested just under her armpits. Bellamy felt uncomfortable at the exposure of his co-leader. He could just imagine how upset she would be if Bellamy saw her like this.

Another pained, guttural shriek exited her lips causing Bellamy to snap back into the present. Bellamy repressed his personal feelings and began to search for any wounds. It took a few seconds of scanning over her skin before he found the origin of this illness.

A deep cut ran several inches from the top of her ribs. The cut disappeared underneath the band of a dark bra.

The skin looked shredded and inflamed. His fear grew as he realized that a pungent ooze was leaking from the wound.

Solemnly, he made eye contact with Finn. "Clarke's mom said that when they brought her back, she had been in a fight and was in rough shape. They thought she was one because she was covered in blood and dirt. The grounder must have cut her. It's infected."

"So she's dead." Murphy's tone was matter-of-fact, but there was a questioning look.

"No," snarled Finn. Bellamy looked hopelessly back at Clarke. Her face was scrunched up in agony. Her closed eyes twitched. Clarke had to live. She knew Mount Weather. She knew how to keep the 100 alive. More importantly, she knew him.

She had to live.

"She is not going to die. Get her pack Finn." He pointed a few feet away from Murphy. Bellamy knew that Clarke brought the seaweed from the river with her in case they found Finn injured.

If they could put that over the wound, maybe, just maybe, she would be able to make it back to the Ark.

Finn handed Bellamy the gray bag. He dug inside of it quickly finding a corked bottle of clear liquid and a handful of the red seaweed. He pulled the cork out using his teeth and was instantly reeling back as the sharp scent of Monty's moonshine hit him in the face.

Very carefully, Bellamy reached behind her and unsnapped the clasp of her bra. He covered her chest with her shirt limiting the amount of skin shown. He gently pulled the straps down the side of her arm before pulling the undergarment off.

Finn clenched his fists again as he watched Bellamy. He did not want the older man touching Clarke at all. His hatred towards Bellamy increased every second that he watched him with Clarke.

Unaware of the animosity that Finn felt, Bellamy called out, "Finn, I need you to pin her down. Keep her from moving."

Finn rushed forward to help. He gently put pressure on her shoulder. Bellamy gritted his teeth before slowly dumping the alcohol on Clarke's skin.

As soon as the liquid touched her skin, Clarke arched up. A violent keening noise screeched from her throat. Tears slipped down her cheek. Finn held tightly on to Clarke trying to hold her still.

A choked sob escaped her before her body fell still. Finn and Bellamy panicked. Finn released her from his grip. He quickly pressed his fingers to her throat and nearly collapsed in relief as he felt the too-quick strum of her heart.

"She passed out." He said.

Bellamy took the seaweed and rolled it in his hands before cautiously applying it to the slash on her skin. He tore a long portion of his shirt and soaked it with the alcohol. He wrapped it around once before tying it tightly behind her back.

Bellamy lowered her shirt. Standing up, he brushed the grit off of his pants.

"We need to go now."

"Go?" Murphy balked. The darkness fell swiftly on the forest, permeating the woods. Bellamy understood that this was a concern, but it didn't matter.

"We need to get back to the Ark as soon as we can. Clarke's mom can figure out if this is an infection or something more."

"Before we heard her, we decided that searching in the _dark_ was too dangerous. Now, you want to race through the forest to save her life?"

"Yes," answered Bellamy.

"When did you decide her life meant more than anyone else's, Bellamy?" Murphy said in disgust. "The Bellamy I knew wouldn't let some spoiled princess take priority."

"Shut it, Murphy." Bellamy ground out. "If you want to stay here, then fine by me. But this is the end of the discussion." Murphy's mouth clamped shut, but the frustration in his eyes was clear to everyone.

Bellamy thought about how they should travel, "Finn, can you lead and get us back to the camp."

"I can try," he said hesitantly.

Bellamy looked thoughtfully at Finn. Despite how much he hated the idea of a gun in Finn's hands, he knew that Finn should have it while Bellamy carried Clarke. He slowly pulled the gun strap over his head before offering it to Finn.

Finn quickly reached to grab it. Before he could pull it out of Bellamy's hands, Bellamy said, "This will not be a shoot first, ask questions later situation."

The younger man shook his head once. Bellamy reluctantly let go before picking up Clarke's body.

Finn, Bellamy, and Murphy took off into the woods. Their feet crashed against the soft earth and fallen tree branches.

Time passed quickly during the night. Bellamy's mind was occupied with thoughts of the fallen princess in his arms. He stole quick glances of her as he moved. Her lips constantly moved; unheard words spilled from her pale, pink lips. Bellamy tried to strain his ears to her message, but it was lost in the swirling wind and heavy footsteps.

They continued running off and on. All of the men were covered with perspiration, physical exhausted, and mentally spent. Occasionally, they would stop or slow down to a walk, but a small gasp or choking noise from Clarke sent them off.

Bellamy tried to ignore the increasing pain in his arms. After several hours of holding her body, he knew that they would have to stop or figure something out soon. Physically, Clarke was short. If Bellamy had to guess a height, he would guess that she was 5'3, maybe 5'4.

The problem was that she was solidly made of muscle and soft feminine curves. After holding her for hours, she essentially felt like steel in his arms.

Bellamy gritted his teeth and continued to trek through the forest. His arms had moved past the stage of burning into numbness.

"Stop." Bellamy breathlessly called out. "I'm going to drop her if we don't stop." He lowered her to the ground. He balled his hands into fists as the blood shot up through her arms. A small groan escaped his mouth. He tried to work out the pain, but his arms had turned into pins and needles.

"I need to switch. Murphy, you have to carry her. We can slow down if you need us to." Murphy was still panting restlessly.

"Finn, how much longer?" Murphy asked.

"If we slow down… an hour," Finn answered.

"If we don't?"

"Twenty minutes."

"I can keep pace." Murphy's face was red. A sickly look had overcome his features. Dark circles showed the effects from sleep deprivation.

Murphy bent down and tossed her over his shoulder. Her lean arms trailed limply behind him. Bellamy bit his tongue, trying to keep from yelling at Murphy. He knew that her position slumped over Murphy's shoulder would put pressure over the infected wound, but he understood the necessity of carrying her that way.

Finn took off in the lead again. Bellamy let Murphy go ahead of him while he stayed back. He watched Murphy for any weakness, but the teenager impressively moved forward.

Finn, Bellamy, and Murphy kept running until they could hear the noise from the Ark. Relieved, Bellamy called for the others to stop at the forest line.

"We need to make sure that the guards aren't as trigger happy as they were the last time we were here."

Finn, taking Bellamy's lead, exited the tree line. A section of the Ark towered over them. When Bellamy first shot Jaha and escaped onto the dropship, he believed that the memory of his former home would cause him to break into a cold sweat, but seeing it now, Bellamy only felt relief.

Underneath, he could see how busy the survivors were. Even though it was it was early morning, and the sun was hours from rising, a group of men and women bustled around the camp. Soldiers stood ready to defend the former members of the Ark.

Shouts of alarm rose as a private caught sight of the small group.

Bellamy held his hands up in a sign of relief. A small group of escorts came forward led by Major Byrne.

The stern women immediately began to ask questions. How did they get away from the Ark? Why did they leave? Where did they go? Did they see grounders? How did they survive? The questions came faster and faster as the blonde women spoke to Bellamy.

"We can talk lat-" Bellamy began.

"No. You will answer my questions," interrupted Byrne.

Finn was officially done. He couldn't contain the rage inside of him.

"Do you not see what we are dealing with? Move out of our way!" Finn screamed. Five gunmen jerked their weapons up.

"Calm down, Finn. Major, I will answer your questions after I get to Abby Griffin. Clarke is extremely sick." Bellamy pointed to her body still slung over Murphy's shoulder.

"Fine. But when you have settled her, find me. I want answers from you."

"Agreed." The guards lowered their weapons and allowed the group to pass.

As they entered the camp, Bellamy could see Clarke's mother sprinting towards them. Another younger medic chased her.

"Clarke!" She cried as she got closer. Worry and stress pulled the muscles in her face tight.

"She has an old cut near the ribs on her left side. It looks infected. We tried to help as much as possible."

"Thank you." A look of gratitude lit her face. Murphy transferred Clarke into the other man's arms.

"Just help her," Bellamy said quietly. He watched as the two medic rushed away towards the Ark.

Turning away, he went to go finish dealing with Major Byrne. Exhaustion slowly crept into his fatigued, aching muscles. He wanted this day to end as soon as possible.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Did anyone else wonder about the mysterious healing powers that Clarke supposedly possessed from her battle with Anya. I sure did.**

**As always, feel free to leave a review.**


	4. Chapter 4-Vulnerable

**A/N: Disclaimer: I do not own the 100. Resolution is rated M for strong sexual scenes, graphic violence, and language.**

Afraid by The Neighbourhood

When I wake up I'm afraid, somebody else might take my place  
>When I wake up I'm afraid, somebody else might take my place<p>

Being me can only mean feeling scared to breathe  
>If you leave me then I'll be afraid of everything<br>That makes me anxious, gives me patience, calms me down

Resolutions- Chapter 4- Vulnerable

"WHAT!" Bellamy bellowed. His chest quickly rose up and down. His face was burning with rage.

"You need to settle down, or I will arrest you," Major Byrne stated calmly. A smug smirk circled her otherwise blank face.

"They let us go! You want to senselessly _murder_ them. Because they have the _potential _to threaten us." Bellamy could not believe this woman. After Bellamy finished explaining what occurred during their trek into the woods, she promptly demanded the information to find the village. Byrne made the decision that the village would need to be wiped off the metaphorical map.

He didn't know why this surprised him. On the Ark, the laws stated that executions were "okay" to prevent an uprising. Even simple disobedience meant being floated. Part of him had hoped that things could change; the 100 had proven that with their survival. Despite being criminals, they had found a way to work together. Hanging Murphy by his neck, made the 100 realize that they needed to be different. They could survive without floating lawbreakers. They could rewrite their history.

But looking at Major Byrne's rigid stance, arms crossed sharply across her body and shoulders held straight back, he had to acknowledge that human nature was a hard thing to alter. The adults from the Ark would always resort to punishment and fear.

"It is precautionary. They will regroup and attack us." Her mouth twitched into a deep frown.

"They were women, elders, nothing dangerous. Finn already slaughtered at least a third of the group."

"They can still attack us."

"So you exterminate them on the chance that they come after us?"

"Yes," Byrne stated bluntly.

"I won't do it. It's immoral." Bellamy's balled his fists where they rested on a hard, steel table.

"It's not a choice."

"That's where you are wrong. I will not kill any more of that village. You didn't see them." The image of the dead grounders entered his mind. "They were people. They had friends, neighbors, loved ones. We destroyed that by sending Finn out."

"You played vigilantly and it backfired. You should never have left camp. But you did leave, violating a direct order from the acting chancellor. Technically, I could arrest you based off of that. If I don't get this information willingly, I will take it from you, and then you will spend time in here until I decide what to do with you."

"The answer is no. I don't pointlessly murder."

"I have no choice then. I hate that I have to do this, but you are giving me no other option." Her face twisted into a look of false concern. "Lieutenant, stand Mr. Blake up."

Bellamy looked up in alarm as Lieutenant Jonathon Jones moved forward. Bellamy remembered Jones from when he was a grunt-in-training.

Jones was a ruthless soldier that was often used to break up tension or smother violent outbreaks within the members of the Ark. Most people tried to avoid him.

The large man moved forward, placing a meaty paw on Bellamy's shoulder. Bellamy tried to twist out of his grip, but Johnson pulled him up as easily as a child would be moved.

"Are you still not going to say anything?" asked Byrne.

Bellamy stared straight through her in response. He would not help her.

She quickly put her hand on her belt. She pulled out her baton and switched on the small button. Bellamy's eyes widened in response to the club lighting up. The electric current on the baton buzzed menacingly.

"Put him over there." Bellamy knew that it was useless to fight, but it was not in his nature to passively concede. He struggled momentarily before Jones's death grip forcefully subdued him. He pulled Bellamy over to a steel beam in the center of the room.

Jones attached a pair of handcuffs to his hands. They were wrapped around the steel beam, effectively trapping him. He looked over his shoulder defiantly.

"Last chance, Blake."

"Go to Hell." Bellamy felt Jones's hands grab at his shirt and tear it open. The air was unpleasantly cool on his back. Byrne smirked as she walked over to him.

"Let's see what you're thinking after a few lashes." Byrne jabbed the baton into Bellamy's lower back. Electricity slammed through his body. His muscles contracted quickly as the burning pain exploded in his back. His eyes clenched shut. Bellamy couldn't think around the pain.

"Tell me what I want Bellamy," demanded Byrne.

"No." The resulting lash caused his teeth to clamp shut over his cheek. The tangy metallic taste of blood coated his mouth. A pained moan filled the air.

"I will get what I need." In quick succession, she hit him over his shoulder blade, on his spine, and near his kidney. Bellamy couldn't contain the groans. His back arched with each blow.

"One last chance." Bellamy refused to give into her. His silence was fueled by stubborn anger. He heard a click behind him. He twisted his head to see what was happening.

The baton seemed to glow brighter. Byrne stood back and watched the panic enter in Bellamy's brown eyes. Without another word, she swung the baton at his shoulders. Bellamy's body jerked uncontrollably as the electricity burnt his skin.

A tortured scream burst from his lips.

Instead of pulling the weapon back, Major Byrne pushed it deeper into Bellamy's tanned flesh. She only stopped her abuse when she saw Bellamy slump forward.

The doors to the small room flew open. Abby Griffin looked around the interrogation room. Angrily, she strode forward into the space.

"What the hell is going on?" Abby probed.

"I'm interrogating Blake, Chancellor. He is refusing to share vital information that we need now." Major Byrne's tone was sharp as she answered Chancellor Griffin's answer.

"On whose authority?" Abby snapped back. Byrne's looked hesitant.

"You weren't available ma'am. I needed the information quickly before it was too late."

"Do not act without an order. You were completely out of line." Abby glared at Byrne.

Abby went over and checked on Bellamy. His body lankly dangled from the cuffs attached to the beam. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing heavily.

"He needs to be taken to the medic bay. He passed out. Lieutenant bring him over there so I can help him. "

Ignoring Jones as he unchained Bellamy, Abby stepped closer to the blonde women and said, "If anything happens like this again, I will deal with you myself. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal." Abby ignored the way Byrne's eyes narrowed in contempt. She stepped out of the room, rushing over to the med bay.

As Abby stepped into the med bay, she noticed that Bellamy was already awake on a chair. His glazed eyes stared straight at the wall as Jackson gently cleaned the burns on his back. Abby dismissed Jackson with a nod of her head before taking over. She inspected the skin, twisting her head sideways before taking a wet cotton ball and dabbing the skin. Bellamy flinched away from the sting of the antiseptic liquid.

An icy silence covered the room. The only noises were the hum of the machine. Bellamy broke the silence before Abby.

"How's Clarke?" Bellamy's voice was rough.

"Stable. Her blood turned septic." Bellamy shot her a confused look over his shoulder.

"Blood poisoning," clarified Dr. Griffin, "Pretty serious."

"Is she going to be okay?"

"We will have to wait. Septicemia is very serious. The infection is raging through her blood stream. Her fever spiked to 104.2, and she couldn't breathe easily. She is on oxygen and fluids, but at this point, only time will tell." Her voice spoke in an even tone.

"Where is she?"

"A private room. She..." Dr. Griffin's voice broke, "There have been a lot of complications. Fevers can cause severe hallucinations. She doesn't seem to understand where she is. When she is awake, all she does is scream. I've had to keep her sedated. Her fever dropped steadily over the last couple of hours, but she seems trapped in this delirious state."

"Have you tried the seaweed? Clarke swears that river seaweed can cure pretty much everything."

"We are."

A brief silence overtook the room as Bellamy considered what Clarke's mother shared with him.

"She'll be fine." Bellamy didn't wait for an answer before he continued, "Clarke is smart and capable. She is also a survivor. Some stupid cut isn't going to kill her off. She's way too stubborn for that." Abby's hands stilled. A deep blush colored his cheeks.

"Are…did…" Dr. Griffin's voice stuttered. He could hear her take a deep breath, "You seem to know Clarke well."

"Not really," Bellamy muttered. They both quieted down. Abby began dabbing a pungent cream on to Bellamy's back, soothing the stinging burns. When she walked around, she made eye-contact with the young man.

"To be honest, I don't understand you or your relationship with my daughter. When Clarke first asked me to get Jaha to pardon you, I thought that Clarke was an idiot for allowing a murderer to walk around scot-free. Clearly, you aren't just some killer. What I want to know is if I need to worry about you, Blake. Are you a threat to my daughter?"

"Clarke and I work together. We are simply partners trying to keep our people alive. Nothing more, nothing less." Bellamy could barely meet the intelligent eyes of Clarke's mother. Her brown eyes scrutinized the young man.

"If you want to see her you can. We are discontinuing the drugs that are sedating her." Bellamy's head jerked up at the statement. Part of him expected her to ban him from coming near Clarke.

"Sure. I need to ask her some questions."

Dr. Griffin's mouth turned up slightly at Bellamy's excuse. "I doubt she will be ready for that anytime soon, but be my guess. It would be nice to know something about the 100. Her room is the second door on the right if you go through that door." She pointed to a door leading out of the med bay.

Bellamy moved towards the door, only stopping when he heard Abby call out.

"Hey, Blake. Be careful. With your back, I mean. It will be sensitive for a while. I would know." She turned and showed him the healing scabs of her own battle burns. She winked before exiting the area.

Bellamy paused before he slowly walked towards the door, through the hallway, and pushed open the door to Clarke's private room.

A fast beeping noise filled the room. Bellamy looked around. A curtain covered a majority of the space.

Bellamy hesitated before striding over to the curtain. His hand grasped the gray, plastic sheet. He pulled it away quickly, revealing a silent Clarke. Bellamy immediately felt weirded out as he looked at her.

Clarke's head was propped up on a white pillow. Her hair, which was usually swaying around her shoulders, was pulled up in a high ponytail. Her face was wiped clean. Someone covered her slack mouth and small, slightly upturned nose with a clear mask. Air pushed into the mask through a thin tube.

Someone had removed her stained shirt completely. Clean, white bandages were wrapped around her chest, leaving her shoulders bare. Her arms sat delicately on the clean linen sheets. Her doctors attached several wires and a needle into her left arm. A bag of liquids dripped down into a clear tube. He watched as the liquid ran down into the needle in her arm.

He felt nervous watching her. He did not feel uneasy because of her bare arms and shoulders, or the fact that he was watching her while she slept. No, he felt edgy because she looked like she could be dead.

Lately, it felt like ninety percent of the time, Bellamy was killing someone or someone he knew had died. Her face resembled so many of the 100s' faces as they passed on. It pissed Bellamy off to no end that Clarke was sitting in the med bed looking like them.

Her face was relaxed, almost child-like in its' state. The wrinkle that sat between her normally furrowed eyebrows was smooth. Her lashes, long and dark, brushed against the deathly pale skin of her cheeks. Only the visible puffs of breath in her mask, let Bellamy know that she was alive.

For hours, he sat on a small stool, watching her, waiting for something to happen.

At one point, Abby's colleague, stepped into the room.

"Abby said we are going to stop sedating her. Clarke seems stable enough. If something happens come get us." Jackson went over and fiddled with the bag of fluids, removing the needle from her arm. Bellamy ignored him as he moved around Clarke, checking her other arm and neck as he went.

He quietly left the room. Bellamy returned to his silent thoughts. After several hours of restlessly sitting, Bellamy heard breathless noises escape her. The beeping from the heart rate machine increased.

He looked down at her face. She seemed much tenser than before. She whimpered and would shift slightly before whimpering again.

Before long, Bellamy could see her skin begin to perspire. Her eyes were clenched shut. Bellamy kept going back and forth about getting Dr. Griffin or Dr. Jackson.

Bellamy stayed with her hoping that it would pass.

He quickly realized that it wouldn't. Her body began to thrash around the bed. Two tightly balled fists clung to the sheets. The whimpers turned into screams. Bellamy froze at the first screech.

Before getting sick, Bellamy would have sworn that Clarke was invincible. Very few things seemed to scare Clarke, but when he began to hear her voice begging for help, it truly frightened him. Her voice broke into high, mournful keens. Most of the words were mumbled ramblings, but occasionally Clarke would string together a few words.

Bellamy reached towards her, hesitating slightly before brushing her closed fists. He whispered small words of comfort hoping that it would relax her.

Stroking Clarke's hand brought back painful memories.

He remembered times on the Ark where Octavia would get sick. Those were always the worst because he could never get medicine for her. He would worry more and more as each day passed.

There was one year in particular where a bad case of the flu overwhelmed Octavia's tiny body. Bellamy remembered going down into the floor and holding her exhausted body against his. Her sobs and pleas sounded painful. At that moment, Bellamy had wished that he was sick instead of Octavia.

Now, he wished that he could do the same for Clarke.

Several minutes lapsed. Her body stopped shaking, but she seemed to get louder. More words poured out of her mouth. Bellamy felt conflicted over how to help her.

At one point, her voice screamed out so loudly that Bellamy jumped. "Hurt. Please. Go. No!" she cried.

"You're okay, Princess. I promise you that you are safe," he soothed.

Bellamy felt a twist in his gut at her words. Clarke's terror was palpable as she screamed.

"Bell…Leave…Alone…No, no, no!" As he listened to her, it became apparent that Bellamy had made an appearance in Clarke's nightmare. He hated admitting it, but he felt hurt. He thought that the Clarke had begun to trust him. Apparently, not though.

Bellamy pushed his feelings aside and began to caress her face, trying desperately to wake her up without physically shaking her. Her pained shrieks overwhelmed his ears.

"Clarke, you're safe. Wake up. Clarke you have to wake up. Wake up!" Bellamy demanded loudly, "No one will hurt you."

He felt hopeless as he watched her turn on her side and sob into the pillow. Screw it, he thought. She needed to wake up now.

He sat down next to her on her cot. He bent down and scooped her into his lap. He pulled her face out of the crook of his neck. Tipping her chin back, he looked down at her tear-stained face.

"Clarke! Enough!" He watched her eyes fluttered open and shut, "No! Clarke, wake up."

Clarke moaned quietly. He could hear her sniffling as she tried to calm down. Her body shifted closer to him.

"Clarke?" Bellamy stopped talking. He wanted to ask her if she was okay, but that seemed idiotic.

"Hurts."

"Do you want me to get a doctor or your mom?"

"No." Bellamy could feel her warm breath on his neck. His entire body felt like it was on fire with her frame pushed against his.

"Where am I? What happened?" Clarke asked roughly.

"We are at Camp Jaha's med bay. You decided to withhold your injury from your fight with Anya. The cut on stomach became infected, and your blood turned septic."

"Septic?"

"Yeah, it means-"

"I know what it means, Bellamy." She moaned and shifted in his arms. She froze suddenly as she realized that her face was pressed into his hard chest.

Her heart sped up. A small blush appeared on her cheeks.

"Bellamy, put me down." Bellamy stilled and hastily set her down.

"Why…?" Her face still sticky with sweat, turned up to look at Bellamy.

Bellamy answered her unspoken question, "You were screaming in your sleep. I, uh, thought that maybe you needed help. When Octavia had nightmares, I would hold her. It seemed to calm her down." His hand roughly rubbed the back of his neck.

Clarke weakly smiled. Vulnerability was a rare trait in Bellamy.

"Thanks."

"It really wasn't a problem, Clarke."

"Still, you didn't have to."

"Actually, I did. The doctors have had to sedate you every single time. I need you to tell me about Mount Weather. Afterward, they can sedate you if you are a pain in their asses." said Bellamy gruffly.

Clarke glared at him in response. "You are such an ass."

Bellamy smirked at Clarke. Despite her rough voice and pale complexion, he enjoyed the banter. His relief made him practically feel giddy.

Until, he remembered her fearfully calling out his name.

"So… What were you dreaming about?" He raised an eyebrow. He watched her instantly shut down. Her teeth bit down on her soft lower lip.

"I don't want to talk about it." Her face was blank, but her deep, blue eyes seemed to swirl with unspoken emotions.

"Come on, Princess."

"Bellamy, drop it," she said sharply.

"Pretty please."

"Why do you even care about it?"

"I heard some of the things you said. I don't know. Maybe, I just want to know why you were saying that stuff."

A heated blush bloomed across her cheeks. The blood rushed from the top of her ears down to her uncovered chest. Her voice was squeaky as she said, "What did I say?"

Bellamy would have smirked at her embarrassment, but instead he answered the question.

"It sounded like you were scared of me." His voice sounded sad to Clarke.

"It wasn't that."

"What was it then?"

"I…can't remember it all."

"Then tell me what you can remember."

"It really wasn't important."

"Clearly, it was."

"God, Bellamy. It doesn't matter."

"Just tell me already."

"Fine! Then will you fucking stop?" Clarke exclaimed.

Bellamy stopped short. The princess had cursed him out numerous times but never with this much animosity. Her words dripped with anger and disdain.

"Never mind Clarke. You don't have to tell me," he mumbled.

"Seriously? You badger me to death about it and then you tell me, 'never mind?' Come on, Bellamy."

"You clearly don't trust me enough to tell me." Clarke openly rolled her eyes at his statement.

"Don't be like that. Right now, you are the only one I trust here." Her blue eyes gazed piercingly at his. "Which is completely stupid, might I add."

"Why is it stupid?" He looked at her in confusion.

"Because you hate me, and I despise you, which works for us."

"Do you really hate me? Because, I don't hate you."

"Yes, you do. You even tried to kill me."

Scoffing, he said, "If I wanted you dead, princess, it would have happened in those first weeks we arrived here."

"Really?"

"Really."

"That's strangely reassuring."

"That's me. Mr. Reassurance."

"Funny."

"I know." Clarke rolled her eyes again.

"Shut up, Bellamy."

"You have to tell me why you were upset, Princess. Then, I will gladly grant you your wish."

"I was back at Mount Weather." A frown appeared on her face.

"I didn't hear much about Mount Weather."

"You should probably know everything that happened." Clarke chewed on her bottom lip nervously.

"It would definitely help." He gave her a reassuring smile which she returned gratefully.

Taking a deep breath, she said, "When I first woke up, I was in a white room. They had drugged us at the drop ship, so I had a hard time moving around. Honestly, I remember the overwhelming fear. I was alone in that room, but I couldn't recall how I got there."

"I thought I was going to die in those white rooms." Clarke paused before saying, "The room had a small window on the door, so I looked through it. Outside my door, I saw Monty in another room, but he disappeared from his room a couple of days later. Someone, a girl named Maya, was sanitizing his room. I freaked out. That signaled my first jailbreak. It wasn't very successful."

Bellamy gave her a questioning look. She held up her arm, showing him the graze on her arm.

"I smashed through the window. When I was reaching down to open the door, I sliced it on some glass. It was actually stupid. I grabbed a shard of glass and held it against her throat. Again, it didn't work. It just pissed her off." Clarke smirked at Bellamy.

"Their leader tried to explain that they came in peace and cared about integrating us into Mount Weather's system. It was total crap. I knew it, but everyone else believed them. They were completely suckered in by the idea of food and safety," she spat bitterly, "Jasper even told me I was crazy to want to leave."

"So how did you get out?"

"I tore the stitches out on my arm. They had no choice but to stick me in medical."

"Brave, Princess." They shared a smug look before Clarke grew somber again.

"When I was alone, I snuck away. I managed to get into this area. It was horrible," she said, "They kept the grounders in there.

"The mountain men strung a couple of them upside and slowly drained them of all their blood. You could hear the pleading voices of the people who were still conscious. There were so many cages. Cages filled with not animals, but people. They treated the grounder like savages, but they are the savages," she said viciously.

Tears slid down her soft cheeks.

"You aren't there anymore, Clarke. You are safe."

"In my dreams, we were there."

"We?"

"Yeah, we, you and I. We went back for our people, but we were separated trying to get them out. Someone grabbed me and dragged me away. I was forced into a dark room. They threw me into a grounder cage. I don't know how long I was in there."

Clarke blew out a deep breath before continuing, "You didn't know."

"What do you mean?"

"They replaced me, and you didn't know. A perfect clone of me traveled with you and the members of the 100. You left with them. You left me."

Bellamy felt helpless as she confessed her fears. He wished that he hadn't forced Clarke to talk about her dream.

"Clarke… That would never happen. You are such an impossible pain in my ass that no one could replace you."

"I feel like I am replaceable. The adults are here now, so no one needs me. I will go back to nothing," she said bitterly.

"The 100 will always see you as their princess, Clarke. We talked about this before. They trust you. You make them feel safe. Just because the adults are here, doesn't mean that we don't have a responsibility to our people. They are in danger, and it is up to us to save them." He gave her a hard look, examining her dropping eyelid and yawning mouth. "But, we should wait until you can stand on two feet."

He gave her the signature Bellamy smirk. She smiled back.

"I'll be out of here in two days at the most."

"Yeah, right." Clarke glared at his mocking smirk. She childishly stuck her tongue out at him before closing her eyes. Bellamy watched her with a soft look in his eyes. Things sucked in the real world, but sitting with Clarke inside this room made him feel peaceful.

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><p><strong>AN: How'd everyone feel about those Bellarke moments? As always, feel free to write comments about the plot, the writing, or whatever else pops into your wonderful heads.**


	5. Chapter 5-Sound of Silence

**A/N: Hi Everyone. Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the 100. Resolutions is rated M for graphic language, descriptive lemons, and gory violence. **

Sound of Silence

Fools said I, you do not know  
>Silence like a cancer grows<br>Hear my words that I might teach you  
>Take my arms that I might reach you<br>But my words like silent raindrops fell  
>And echoed in the wells of silence<p>

Resolutions- Chapter 5- Sound of Silence

"There is no fucking way!" growled Bellamy.

Bellamy could literally feel the steam pouring out of his ears as he gazed at an equally angry Clarke.

Five days had passed since Clarke woke up.

Despite the fact that she drove everyone insane in the process, she did manage to give her body the opportunity to heal. Dr. Griffin officially gave her permission for more strenuous activities.

Clarke's excitement over her own release quickly became apparent as she threw herself into preparing for the rescue of the 100.

"You are not my father, Bellamy," Clarke retorted heatedly.

"I think we both know that. What I didn't know is that you have a death wish. I also didn't realize that I was the only one thinking things through. Clearly, I am after that ridiculous plan that you suggested."

The slamming of a metal door drew both leaders away from their intense argument. They watched as their dark-haired friend limped into the med bay.

Raven Reyes grinned at them knowingly as she took in the Bellamy and Clarke's tense expression, crossed arms, and red faces.

"Uh-oh. What did I walk into this time?" Over the last couple of days, several people witnessed Clarke's and Bellamy's combative attitude towards each other. Half-crazed by boredom and the need to rescue the 100, Clarke had slowly been irritating anyone within reach.

Bellamy just happened to be the idiot who choose to sit next to Clarke most of the time.

Several people offered to take his place, but Bellamy would dismiss them by saying that he needed to "collect information on the enemy" and couldn't leave.

Abby ended up ordering a sleeping pad for the young man since he refused to leave the room for anything except going to the bathroom.

Supposedly, he had spent the week discussing strategies, learning the layout of Mount Weather and planning infiltration methods with Clarke to create a report for the makeshift council.

Unfortunately, both adults spent more time arguing than coming up with a reliable plan. In Bellamy's defense, the arguments usually revolved around one of Clarke's half-formed plans to storm into Mount Weather and take the structure by force.

Apparently, Clarke's boredom led to rash and poorly constructed schemes.

Clarke and Bellamy glared at Raven before turning their glowers on each other.

"Bellamy shot down another plan. Apparently, he believes that willing the 100 to safety will work."

"No, I just don't think a suicidal plan is the way to go," Bellamy gritted.

"Can you just explain what the plan is?" interrupted Raven.

"I want to meet with the grounders leader." Raven's eyebrow rose in surprise.

"And why do you want to do that?"

"Because I can barter with them. We need to end this war with the grounders. Kane never returned. We have no idea if he met the grounders' leader or if he is dead. That means that grounders could be marching towards us now. If I met with them, we can make a treaty that can benefit us. They could help us save the 100 from Mount Weather."

"How do you expect to get to their commander?"

"Octavia is at the grounder village. I bet her relationship could bridge the gap." Raven silently gazed at Clarke. She seemed to be mulling the idea around in her head.

"It's actually not a bad idea."

"How the hell did you reach that conclusion?" Bellamy exclaimed.

"It makes sense if we want to live. We give them a proposal to join us. We offer to help them with their war against the reapers, give them medical advice, and then give them some weapons as a sign of peace. In exchange, they offer us a chance to rescue our people. They also know the land. That information could keep us alive. Especially, when the weather changes and we are scavenging for food." Raven eagerly exclaimed.

"If we don't end up in a trap."

"The grounders haven't refused to listen to us, Bellamy. And, you can take the necessary precautions and go with Clarke."

"See, Bellamy. This is what we need to get our people back," she exclaimed enthusiastically. Her blue eyes sparkled with unrestrained excitement

"Just because Raven agreed doesn't make it a good idea," lashed Bellamy.

"It's better than yours."

"I haven't made a plan yet. We don't have enough information." Clarke responded by giving him a hard look.

"Since when did you care about having all the facts, Blake?"

"Since the last time we fought with the grounders and I almost died, Princess," he retorted. Clarke stopped short looking hurt.

"Whatever, Bellamy. I don't need your permission, Bellamy." Clarke stormed out of the room. Bellamy closed his eyes tightly, and growled in frustration.

His right hand lightly rubbed his temple where an explosive headache lurked just under the surface.

Without opening his eyes, Bellamy grumbled, "Don't give me that look, Reyes."

"You're a dick." She retorted. Bellamy knew that his comment was underhanded.

Truth be told; Bellamy did not blame Clarke for shutting the doors on him and Finn. She made the choice to save their people. He did not fault her on a decision that he would probably have done himself.

"I'm using my head," he defended.

"No, you are clearly not. What's shocking though is that you are not thinking with your dick this time either." Bellamy opened one eye and shot a dark look at Raven.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Look Bellamy. I am not one of those dumb sluts that you banged when you got here. I might not know you as well as the others, but I know that you are worried about Clarke getting hurt. Or worse. That is the only reason you are trying to stop her from doing what's right." Bellamy opened his mouth to argue.

"I'm not done," she snapped sharply, "You need to figure your shit out quickly because we rely on you. If you don't support Clarke on this, then you are condemning the 100 to become blood bags for the Mountain Men. And if you don't let her create a treaty with the grounders, you are condemning us to be worm food. So shut up, or I swear to god that I will kill you myself," Raven ended.

"You done?" Bellamy asked sarcastically.

Raven gave Bellamy a condescending look and gestured for him to go on.

"It isn't just the fact that we are rushing into a dangerous situation. There are other things to consider. We will have to wait for Clarke to heal, plan for the opportunity, and create the terms for a peace treaty. On top of that, we don't even know if the council will allow it," stated Bellamy.

"They might not, but you aren't helping by whining like a brat about it. And if you don't try, we are equally screwed." Raven watched Bellamy think through her words.

"I should probably go apologize then."

"I would, if you don't want Clarke to kill you in your sleep," smirked Raven. Bellamy said a quiet thanks before leaving the room to find Clarke.

It took Bellamy an hour of searching to figure out where Clarke had hidden. She had wedged herself in a small closet. Using small tools, Clarke sketched shapes onto the floor.

When she heard the squeak of the rusting door, she quickly looked up in alarm. Her eyes narrowed into angry slits as they caught sight of Bellamy before she swiftly turned away from him.

Hesitantly, he took a small step into the room and let the door shut behind him.

Bellamy watched her tense body sitting stiffly on the floor. Her hand drug the little metal writing tool across the floor leaving dark, charcoal marks along the ground. He couldn't see what she was drawing, but could sense her fury in the sharp, jerking motions of her hand.

He wondered if approaching Clarke so soon was a good idea. Clearly, she wanted some alone time; otherwise, she would have gone back to the room that Dr. Abby Griffin assigned her.

No, I need to just get this over with, he thought. Nervously, Bellamy shuffled over.

"Clarke, I'm sorry." He said softly. She ignored him and continued to mark the floor. Her hand followed the same pattern over and over again.

Bellamy tried again. "Clarke, I didn't mean it."

"Evidently, you did."

"No, I said that out of anger."

"Leave me alone, Bellamy." Her voice sounded surprisingly rough. He knew that something was going on with her.

He grabbed her shoulder and tried to forcefully move her. She swung around furiously.

"Don't touch me!" She yelled. Bellamy looked in surprise as the faded light from a window highlighted her face. Two twin tracks of tears gathered in her eyes and raced down her face.

"Clarke," he breathed, "I'm sorry about what I said. I was acting like an ass because I couldn't get my way."

"We both know that isn't true," she whispered.

"Clarke, no one blames you. I would have ordered the doors to close too. You had to save our people," soothed Bellamy.

"No! You don't get to say that or do that. You have tried to make it seem like I was doing what was best, but the truth is that everything that happened was my fault. Our people getting kidnaped, you and Finn going missing, and the massacre at the village was all my doing."

"I will always remember it. They are dead because of me. They are all dead," she cried, "Finn isn't the murder; I am!"

"That's fucking bullshit! How can you even think that way?" Bellamy asked in anger and disbelief.

"If I wasn't here...-"

"We would have died the first week down on the ground," he snapped.

She continued as if she didn't hear Bellamy's words, "...Finn and Raven would be together, we would have never fought the grounders, the mountain men wouldn't have found the drop ship, our friends wouldn't be kidnapped, Finn never would have attacked the village, you wouldn't have-"

"Shut up, Clarke. These things are just as much my fault as yours. If you hadn't been on the ground, we would still be a bunch of delinquents killing each other off. You've made things better," he said, his eyes locked onto hers. Clarke felt her breath hitch as the intensity of his words hit her.

"I feel like I'm drowning, Bellamy. I just want it to stop," she wept. Without thought, Bellamy wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her soft body to his.

Clarke stiffened before relaxing into the hug. Her arms slowly moved around his waist. She dug her hands into his worn gray shirt, gripping at it in desperation. She needed this. She needed safety, and comfort, and the idea that she wasn't alone in this mess.

She buried her nose in the crook of his neck, and tried to relax, but she could feel the torrents of sadness overtake her. One tear dropped onto his shoulder, then another, until she couldn't contain the desperate sobs that poured from her.

Bellamy held onto Clarke as she cried, rubbing calming circles on her back. Soon, the breathless cries turned to quiet sniffles.

She didn't move out of his arms until she felt strong enough to sit by herself.

Embarrassed and refusing to make eye contact, Clarke murmured a small sorry. She shuffled back on her knees.

"Clarke… You don't have to apologize. We are in this together. You have people on your side," he said quietly, "If you let things pile up like this, you are going to be pretty much useless to us."

"I don't know how you manage so well." She used the sleeve of her shirt to roughly wipe away the wetness on her face.

Bellamy sighed, thinking of a way to explain it to her.

"I fake it. We can't let everyone know that we are feeling scared, or tired, or hungry. We can't let them know when we are out of options or have no choice but to give up. We have to be the strong ones. On the surface, you have to be strong, but when you are alone or with someone that you trust, let it go. Let out all your fears. That's the only thing that will keep you sane around here."

"Who do you talk to?" she asked curiously.

"The best listener of the group: Myself," he said with a smirk.

Clarke frowned at his answer. She could see through his joking persona and felt pity for Bellamy. At that moment, she was given a rare insight into the puzzle that was Bellamy Blake.

Despite the hardened exterior and don't-give-a-crap attitude, she realized that he was also straining under the weight of leadership. He was just as alone as she was; maybe more.

The only person that Bellamy had was Octavia, who was currently at the grounder village. But knowing Bellamy, Clarke would wager that he would never go to his younger sister for advice.

He was too protective of her. He would do anything for her. He would even shield her from his own fears.

"I'm a good listener, too," she stated nervously, "You can talk to me if you want."

He looked at her as if he was assessing her statement. He watched carefully as she nervously clasped and unclasped her hands together.

"I might take you up on that." He gave her a small smile, watching as she returned it with a sweet, little grin of her own.

Snapping back to reality, Bellamy knew that they had to work quickly if they wanted Clarke's plan to work. He might hate the idea, but he agreed that it might actually be their best option to save the teenagers from Mount Weather.

"Okay, Princess. No offense, but you look like a mess. If we are going to talk to the council you need to wash up, maybe try to fix your hair or something." Clarke's grin slipped off of her face and was replaced by an irritated scowl.

She huffed before standing up. "Just when I thought you could be nice," she murmured angrily.

Without another word, she left Bellamy in the closet still kneeling on the floor. He placed a hand on the hard, steel surface readying himself to stand up, but froze in place as he gazed at the ground.

The satisfied smirk slipped off of his face.

The floor was marked with strikingly, detailed lines. It looked like Clarke had spent days drawing and sketching the smallest of designs onto the floor, not the hour that she had disappeared.

Bellamy felt his chest clamp down as he absorbed the message from her drawings; fear, guilt, and anguish.

Several pictures stood out to him; he could see the small huddled form of Clarke clutching at her mother's shirt, as a man's body was sucked out of the Ark. His face held a little smile, but his eyes showed his fear of dying.

Another drawing displayed a naked Clarke. Her back was arched up in pleasure as Spacewalker covered her neck with kisses. His body shielded Clarke's nudity from peering eyes, but Bellamy knew what this drawing disclosed.

Bellamy's jaw clenched in frustration.

He knew that they had sex, but seeing it was a different matter. He gazed at Clarke's face a moment longer, taking in her tightly clenched eyes, her mouth forming a small "O", and the soft shape of her body peeking out from under Finn. He was so consumed with the image that he almost missed the slim form gazing at the two lovers brokenly.

Raven's face stared at them with so much hatred and hurt. Her eyes, usually mischievous and direct, were hidden in shadows. A darkly sketched tear ran down her cheek.

He tore his eyes away from the drawing that showed so much remorse.

The last depiction that caught his eye confused him.

All of Clarke's pictures held the same theme. They released all of her own self-abhorrence for her own actions.

She hated herself because of something that happened in the photos.

There were images of the 100, Murphy's hanging, Charlotte's death, Well's grave, the meeting at the bridge, but for some reason, this photo was different.

His hand reached and traced the drawing.

His fingers ran over his cheekbones, the relaxed set of his mouth, the darkly etched eyebrows, and closed eyelids. The Bellamy in Clarke's photo was shown in an innocent, peaceful manner as he slumbered with his head resting on a hospital bed.

Bellamy's thoughts became more scrambled as he tried to understand her message. What did she regret? Why did she draw me? He asked.

Puzzled and wary of the drawing, he stored his thoughts for later usage. He stood up and turned to leave, but paused looking back at the drawings. Using his boot, he roughly rubbed away any trace of the Finn/Clarke picture.

Part of him tried to rationalize it as protecting Clarke's body from unwanted eyes, but he knew that he personally just wanted to wipe away this memory of the Spacewalker pleasuring Clarke.

Bellamy left the room without another glance and ran to catch up with Clarke.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading. Feel free to leave any comments.**


	6. Chapter 6-Dispute

**A/N: Hi Everyone! Whew! I managed to post this on time even though the timing is a little tight. I could not do that without the support so I would like to thank everyone for reading, ****reviewing, and following this story. Seeing all the interest in this concept is wonderful. I would like to include more information than the usual disclaimer. I want to give fair warning that Resolution will follow the show very closely. Though I have branched away from the original plotline, my story will share spoilers from the show, throughout the seasons that the show will air. I love the show and want to keep the integrity of it. So with further ado... Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the 100. This story will contain graphic sex scenes, language, violence, and spoilers.**

Wrong Side of Heaven by Five Finger Death Punch

Arms wide open, I stand alone.  
>I'm no hero, and I'm not made of Stone<br>Right or wrong, I can hardly tell  
>I'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell<p>

Resolutions- Chapter 6 – Dispute

"So you are leaving?"

Clarke startled at the voice. Turning around, she faced Finn. Two weeks had passed since the attack on the village. Two weeks since she had looked at the boy that she used to love in the face.

He looks terrible, she thought. His hair had grown long and tangled. Dark bruises covered the skin under his eyes. His eyes once so warm and bright were dull pits of blackness. His body seemed thinner and frail.

"Are you sick?" she blurted out.

His soft, broken laugh filled the room.

"Always so blunt, Clarke."

"I'm serious, Finn. You look pale."

"I'm fine," he dismissed, "I just wanted to come over, and figure out what you are planning. We haven't talked, and then all of a sudden I'm hearing that you are going to meet the Grounder village." Clarke ignored the pained, hurt look on his face.

"We are."

"Who's we?" Clarke tensed.

"Just Bellamy and I."

"You are going with Bellamy? Alone," Finn sneered.

"My mom wanted to send an armed team, but it wouldn't help our case with the Grounders if we sent a large group of heavily armed guards." The fear in Finn's eyes grew as he realized the danger that Clarke was exposing herself to.

"Clarke, please don't go. You don't have to do this," he pleaded.

"Yes, I do. We are out of options."

"Why is this your responsibility? You don't have to lead anymore."

"You are wrong. The adults are still the same. They will consider the Ark before the 100. I need to be their voice."

"Are you going to give it up when you get the 100 back from the mountain men?" he asked stiltedly. His eyes looked searchingly.

Clarke hesitated before shaking her head.

"Then what's the point?" Finn exploded, "You are going to always put yourself at risk! You will never be safe because you are too _goddamn_ stubborn. Why can't you just let the adults do their job? Why can't you just _stop_?"

Clarke resisted the urge to step away from Finn as he ranted.

"Finn, I don't think the 100 will stay here." Finn looked up at her in surprise.

"What do you mean?" he queried.

"The adults will never treat the 100 like equals. Why would they want to give up their freedom to the adults when they were sent by them to the ground to die? I've heard how they are treating Raven, Bellamy, and Murphy; like criminals. I won't force the 100 to stay, and if they choose to leave, I will go too."

Finn stared at her blankly.

"Is it the 100 that you plan to follow or Bellamy?" Clarke shot Finn a confused look.

"What does that even mean, Finn?" She asked.

"It means that he hasn't left you alone for more than a handful of hours. When I tried to visit you when you were sick, Bellamy said that you couldn't have visitors. We were together, but he was the one that was allowed to stay with you. And let's be honest; it isn't just him. You were cleared more than a week ago, yet you haven't attempted to talk to me. You have spent nearly every waking moment with him."

"We are strategizing," Clarke said in shock.

"It isn't just that." He exclaimed.

"I swear it is. It's not like we are having sex in here; we talk about plans."

"Then, talk to me. You used to talk to me, but now you don't." He said, "I was always there for you. I can do that for you; be that for you. Clarke, I love you." His face was twisted and pleading.

"I don't know what you want me to say right now."

"Tell me that you still love me too." His hands grasped at her own.

"Things are different, Finn."

"Because of the village?"

"Because of you!" She screamed. Her frustration and anger simmered underneath the surface just begging to escape. She did not want to deal with this. There were many things that she needed to think about, but this was not one of them.

"I'm still the person that you fell in love," Finn said harshly.

"How can I even say that I loved you when I didn't know you? The village was bad, but there are so many things that I don't know about you. We have a past, but there are other things from your past that I don't know about."

"I can tell you about me. I can fix that."

"No! We crossed a line, Finn. When Raven came down, it made me realize that things are different. We used each other to feel safe. We felt alone and scared. You were my friend, and I cared about you, but I will never be able to get over the fact that you broke my heart and her heart. I cared about you and let you in, but when Raven came down you immediately tried to work things out with her."

"You told me to!"

"I shouldn't have had to! If you had loved me, then you wouldn't have made it into some choice. But you did, and I lost. That hurt so much. I only trusted you."

"Clarke, if I could take it back-"

"But you can't, so you have to stop trying. We can try being friends, but even that is going to take time."

Silence fell over the two teens as they watched each other. Finn's eyes pleaded with her to reconsider.

"Clarke, please," he whispered.

Staying strong, Clarke said, "I've got to finish packing." She turned around and began to grab her pack and continue to fill it.

"That's it then?" He said, anger tingeing his voice. Her hand stilled on the jar of grounded up herbs.

"That's it." Her heart hurt as she spoke her words determinedly. She heard the sharp release of breath from his lips.

"I'm not going to stop, Clarke. Just because you gave up, doesn't mean that I plan to."

She held her breath as the door slammed shut. Her chest clenched tightly. She placed her hand on her chest and lightly rubbed the painful spot. Her eyes pinpricked with tears. A soft sob released the pain in her chest and the moisture in her eyes. The salty tears streamed down her face in a torrent of emotion.

She wished that things could be different. She still loved Finn. In her mind, she saw the beautiful boy with the mischievous smile and kind words. The boy who dared her to be better; take risks.

The one that delicately brushed the soft blonde hair away from her cheek and left soft, sweet kisses on her pale lips. The one who gently stroked the palm of her hand, tracing the gentle dips and creases of her skin. The one who captured her body and pulled her so close that she felt like nothing could harm her.

Another sob broke free as she realized that the Finn that she thought she knew was a figment of her imagination. The true Finn was impulsive and careless. He had unintentionally stomped over her heart and smashed Raven's to pieces.

At that moment, she mourned for Finn. She mourned for the death of her fabricated Finn; her Finn that would never truly be hers again.

A knock snapped Clarke out of her dark spiral of thoughts. She roughly wiped away the thick barrage of tears.

Clearing her throat, she called out, "What is it?"

The squeak of the door signaled someone's entrance. Trying to fight the tears, Clarke said, "I'm packing. What do you need?"

She felt rather than heard the response. A warm hand laid gently on her shoulder. Clarke flinched away from the touch, but the hand was persistent in its search to comfort her.

Clarke slowly turned around, blinking back the tears.

Chocolate brown eyes stared at her sympathetically. Clarke opened her mouth to say something, but was immediately engulfed in a tight embrace.

"It's okay, Clarke. I heard it all," Raven whispered. Clarke felt her shoulders briefly slump in relief before stiffening. She took a step back and looked at Raven's relaxed face.

"How are you okay with this?" she said, "I'm not okay with it."

"I've talked to Finn before he got to you. That was one of the reasons that I headed down here. He explained why things went down the way they did. He told me that you never knew about me before I got here and that you tried to stop it from continuing."

"I did."

"I know, I know," she said with a sad smirk, "He tried to talk to me before, but I ignored him. I was so pissed, but now I wished that I had listened to him. I would not have been so bitter towards you. I wouldn't have been so angry at myself."

"Angry?"

"Yeah, angry. I felt like everything that happened with you and Finn was my fault. Like I could have prevented it."

Clarke opened her mouth to interrupt, but Raven barreled through louder, "I know what you are going to say. I know that it was Finn's fault. I believe it now, but I didn't then. I thought that if Finn hadn't landed on Earth in the dropship, he wouldn't have cheated on me. He wouldn't have met you. We would still be happy and together."

"Finn made his choices. I'm having a hard time with it too, but he did make them."

"I… Finn shouldn't have been sent down here. He didn't spacewalk the night they imprisoned him. I did." Clarke gawked at Raven's confession, "I was 18, and so, so stupid. I wanted to be a Zero-G mechanic, but I failed the health test."

She caught the concerned look from Clarke.

"Heart palpitations. Nothing serious, but the Ark decided that I wasn't worth the chance."

She took a deep breath before continuing, "It was my birthday. Finn knew what I wanted and made it happen. He made a deal with one of the guards. No one thought anything of it when I went down to the engineering bay. Even with Finn, we just cruised by the engineers with no problems."

She sniggered at the thought.

"Finn and I were laughing our asses off because of that. We thought we were so smart. We got to the doors with the biggest smile on our faces. Then, I went outside, Clarke. I did it. Because of Finn caring, I was able to experience it. I promise you, Clarke, that you will never see anything more beautiful. I once heard that when you went out there, all you hear is silence. It's just you, and your own thoughts."

"But, it is nothing like that. This will make me sound like a total sap for saying it, and I will completely deny it if you ever repeat this, but for once, I felt truly connected to the universe. The sounds, the sights; it was breath-taking. I would give up walking to go back to that first moment and relive it."

She trailed off lost in thought. Clarke shifted, anxious to hear the rest of the story. Raven looked up at her friend.

"That spacewalk was the only one that didn't leave me riddled with guilt."

"What happened?" Clarke asked.

"I had to go back in. Once I was in the Ark, I thought everything was alright, but after I had taken off my helmet, the alarm went off. Apparently, the door didn't seal properly. I couldn't breathe, Clarke. Finn had to manual open the doors into the Ark. That's why three months of oxygen was wasted. If he hadn't, I would have died," Raven said beseechingly. Her eyes pleaded for Clarke to understand.

Clarke wanted to say something to relieve the guilt that brewed in her Raven's eyes, but that was three months of oxygen wasted pointlessly. Raven and Finn had recklessly squandered one of the most coveted resources on the Ark. Would that oxygen have saved the three hundred that were sacrificed? Would it have saved the Ark?

When Raven realized that Clarke was going to remain silent, she said, "Manually overriding the system triggered the guards. They sealed us in like rats. Finn made the choice to take the suit and pretend that he was the one who went outside. I was eighteen. They would have floated me. He had a better chance to live, but they sent you to the earth before his case was reviewed."

"You're lucky that he was sent to the ground. With the oxygen levels failing, the council would have condemned and floated him." Clarke said severely.

Raven flinched away from the hard edge in Clarke's voice.

"I know. That's why I can't be mad that he ended up with you; that's why I was angry at myself."

Clarke opened her mouth again but stopped short to prevent the cruel words from spilling from her mouth.

"Wait, I thought you were a Zero-G mechanic when my mom found you."

"Karma bit me in the ass again. When I went back to work again, I found out that they approved me to go outside. If I had waited a day and a half, Finn never would have touched the earth," her voice dropped down to a rough whisper.

Clarke sighed, releasing some of the heaviness in her chest.

"Raven," she said, "You guys were stupid, but you shouldn't blame yourself and you still shouldn't give Finn a free pass. I know he saved your life, but you don't owe him everything. You have to let it go." She gently pulled Raven back into a hug.

It was time for everyone to move on. Clarke felt a sense of kindred with Raven. They had both felt hatred, jealousy, and sadness over the other's existence, but at the end of the day, they were both filled with the same pain, the same hurt, and the same guilt.

Pulling back, Clarke met the girl's eyes, blue to brown, "We've gone through so much shit, Finn won't even matter in a few weeks," she said.

Both Clarke and Raven shared a small smile.

"I actually had another reason to come her," Raven said.

"Yeah?"

"Yep. We are going to make you into the most badass looking princess that those Grounders won't know what hit them," she grinned.

Clarke felt a little bit of fear at the mischievous twinkle in the girl's eye.

"Should I be scared?" she asked doubtfully.

"Yes." She grabbed a few pots from a satchel attached to her hip.

"Just sit over there," she added.

"Before I sit, tell me what you are planning," she demanded.

"Jesus, Clarke. You would swear that I am about to torture you. It's just some paint and things." Clarke looked curiously at the jars again.

"Where did you get that?" she asked animatedly.

"Wick and I made it. Technically, paint is not our forte, but I figured it would be useful in this case. And yes, before you ask, you can have it when I am done." She smirked at the poorly restrained happiness in Clarke's eyes.

"And you need to put these on," she said, holding up dark clothes, "Then we will get started."

Clarke did as told, quietly letting Raven get started on her task. She quickly became consumed with transforming Clarke. She led Clarke to the stool and pushed her into it. Soon, her hands worked on smearing the paint on her exposed skin and pulling at her hair until she was satisfied.

An hour later, Clarke's was finally released from what she considered Hell. Her hair follicles ached, and her skin itched from the drying paint.

"Do you want to see it?" Raven said gleefully.

"No." Clarke tried to walk away from Raven and over to her still partially loaded pack. Raven stopped her.

"This is not a choice," she glared.

"Why did you even ask then?" muttered Clarke petulantly. She allowed Raven to steer her over to one of the reflective walls.

What she saw made her stop grumblingly instantly. She flinched away from the mirror before coming in close.

The girl in the mirror was another person. The clothing of her shirt left her exposed. The cloth covered the upper part of her stomach and her chest before looping across her shoulders and creating a crisscross pattern down her back. Openings in the material showed most of the skin from her sides, as well as her midriff and back.

The rest of the clothing was simple. A pair of black pants clung to her legs. The hem of the pants disappeared into a pair of dark hiking boots.

The boots were surprisingly light and flexible. The leather of the boots bent with her skin but seemed sturdy enough that the material would not easily be pierced. Clarke really wanted to ask Raven where she got the boots, but was too stunned by what Raven had done to her.

Raven had twisted her golden hair was into intricate braids. She spent time collecting the soft hair, smoothing the tangles out with her fingers, and creating two large side braids that pulled all of her hair away from her face. The braids fell loosely into a pile of curls. She weaved smaller braids into the curls allowing them to freely brush against the bare skin of her back. A few smaller feathers were tied at the end of the braids with thin leather straps. The soft quills tickled her skin.

The paint had been used to decorate her skin. Despite not being an artist, Raven's steady engineer hands had managed to create detailed swirls and lines down her back, sides, and arms. Deep purple mixed with sapphire blue, while bright lines of shimmering gold danced around her navel and curled around her body up to the nape of her neck.

Raven used charcoal black paint and a small stick to rim the top of her eyelids. The blue of her eyes seemed eerie against the darker color. Two inch lines of red, blue, and black paint on her left cheek.

The girl, no, the woman, looking at her reflection stood tall and regal. Her beauty was exotic and powerful.

She looked at Raven's smirking reflection.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"No problem. Just finish up with your bag. And now that I'm thinking about it, I should probably escort you. You kind of look like a Grounder in that getup. Wouldn't want someone to shoot you." Clarke stepped back carefully from the reflective surface.

"I just need to throw in a few things," she replied. She carefully wrapped the jars in an extra shirt and pants to keep them still in her pack. She put them inside of the gray bag. Quickly, she grabbed a small bag of nuts, mushrooms, and jerky, her canteen, and her smaller knife. Bellamy had reluctantly agreed with her when she decided that they shouldn't bring anything larger than what could be concealed.

Bellamy loudly voiced his contempt over the choice, stating that it was dangerous to go into the forest without a gun, but conceded when Clarke mentioned the previous visit to the Grounder's village.

Clarke sealed the bag with a leather tie and followed Raven out of the room that she had stayed in for the last couple of weeks.

The pair passed several guards. Clarke could feel their wary stares as they took in her appearance. Clarke couldn't help let a little smile slip through as she took in their crossed arms and frowns. If the people from the Ark were acting this way, she wondered what the Grounders would think.

Raven stopped to talk to one of the younger soldiers near the door, before returning to Clarke.

"Bellamy is in his tent with Murphy. We should just head over there."

Clarke followed Raven as she walked. Unable to stop herself, Clarke asked, "What's up with that?" Raven looked at her in confusion.

"Murphy," she clarified shortly.

"He's not that bad," Raven said hesitantly.

"He shot you! He tried to murder Bellamy. He did kill Connor and Myles."

"I don't think I can say anything that will make sense, but Bellamy decided that he was more usefully to us alive."

"He let Finn murder those people."

"Clarke, you said it yourself; Finn made his own choices. Murphy was just the person next to him."

"I don't trust him."

"I don't think any of us fully trust him, but I know you trust Bellamy. If Bellamy believes that he can be reformed, maybe you should give him a chance," She stopped outside of a small tent and said, "I will let you meet with Bellamy alone. I'm supposed to work with Wick to repair some signal."

Clarke quickly ducked through the flaps of the tent, calling out Bellamy's name. The masculine voices that filled the small space instantly stopped as she entered the space.

"Holy Hell!" cried Murphy, breaking the silence as he caught sight of the blonde leader. Clarke looked up in alarm to see the two men gawking at her. Clarke shifted uncomfortably under the surprised and piercing stares.

Clarke could see Bellamy's mouth open and shut.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Bellamy barked. Clarke bristled under his harsh tone.

"Raven helped me out," she said defensively, "She thought that looking the part might help when we talk to the leader."

"What part? You look-"

"Hot," interjected Murphy. His eyes scanned Clarke from head to toe.

"Murphy," Bellamy growled.

"What? I'm giving a compliment."

"Leave," he snarled. Murphy looked back one final time at Clarke, sighed, then quietly left the tent. Bellamy followed him and checked outside the tent before swinging around towards Clarke.

"This is idiotic," he said, gesturing towards her body.

"Thanks," she said mockingly," tell me what you really think." She crossed her arms angrily.

"You look like Grounder bait."

"I was being sarcastic. I really don't want to hear what you have to say."

"I'm not taking you out there while you look like that," he said. Clarke smirked in response.

"What are you so worried about, Bellamy?" She took a step closer to him, invading his space. She watched as his eyes glanced quickly downward before meeting her eyes again.

"You aren't exactly in fighting shape, Clarke. That thing isn't going to offer you any protection," he sneered.

"It's a good thing that this isn't going to end up a fight. The meeting is about diplomacy."

"I know that, but I think you are going into this too optimistically. Something might happen."

"I get it, Bellamy. I know what you are saying, but I think that if the Grounders see us as Grounders, then negotiations between our people will be easier. I'm keeping the outfit."

Bellamy shook his head in disgust.

"I'm ready to go. Are you packed up?" Clarke asked.

"Yeah," he answered. He walked over to a corner of the room and roughly grabbed his large tan bag. He slung it over his shoulder. Holding the flap of the tent open, he gestured for her to continue.

"After you, Princess."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Feel free to leave a review. I am extremely needy thing and constantly need reassurance to keep writing. Just kidding...mostly.  
><strong>**Happy Holidays!**


	7. Chapter 7-Pressed

**A/N: Hi Everyone. Long time, no see. I have finally been able to post this. I was in between moves with no internet so expect a faster update between this chapter and the next one. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the 100 or the storyline. Resolution is M for language, sex, and violence. Spoilers will be featured.**

Move Along by All-American Rejects

When all you've got to keep is strong  
>Move along, move along like I know you do<br>And even when your hope is gone  
>Move along, move along just to make it through<p>

Resolutions- Chapter 7- Pressed

Bellamy watched Clarke as she walked across the forest. Despite looking like a grounder, she clearly did not gain their quietness. Her boots crunched on the leaves, snapping sticks and scattering stones.

He already attempted to quiet his co-leader, but she just glared back at him when he said something.

Another crack echoed. Bellamy glared at the back of her head, "Clarke, you have to be quieter. You are going to draw way too much attention to us."

He watched as she stumbled. Her hand clumsily clutched at a branch, stopping her uncoordinated descent to the hard-packed dirt. Bellamy observed as the soft tendrils of her hair swished over her shoulders. The feathers danced over her skin, spinning in the light breeze. His eyes followed the trail of soft curls down her back.

"Will you stop distracting me?" she yelled over her shoulder.

Bellamy bit back the retort that was begging to escape his mouth. He stared steely at her as she tripped again.

He was so frustrated with her.

He hated that she managed to find every loud stick to step on, every small rock to stumble on, and more importantly, he hated how beguiling she looked while crashing through the forest.

He had spent a majority of the day avoiding making eye-contact with her, but knew that the image of her entering his tent would not leave his mind quickly. Even now, he could see the slender, toned legs in her dark pants and her back, soft and smooth, decorated with different shapes and swirls.

He mentally berated himself. He couldn't think about her like that. He couldn't allow himself to agree with Murphy's comment. But, disagreeing with his "hot" comment was a losing battle.

On the ground, there were no luxuries. The "kill or be killed" rules of the jungle became ingrained in the survivors from the Ark.

Bellamy quickly learned that he needed to enjoy as much time as he could. With the acid fog, dangerous creatures, and the Grounders, the 100 learned that they had to live each moment like that day could be the last.

Bellamy found ways to relax and enjoy the moment. Carnal pleasure seemed to be the simplest way. At those times, Bellamy enjoyed the sweet satisfaction of the females at camp. It was all about the gratification of release. He took what he wanted and left the women just satisfied enough to boast and brag about their conquest of Bellamy.

But Clarke was different. When he first saw her in the tent, he didn't want to pull her close, fuck her, and discard her like he did the others.

He wanted to explore and conquer her. He wanted to touch the soft, supple flesh of her arm, worship her sweet skin, and feel her heat as he wrapped himself around her. He wanted her. Badly.

As he thought, he knew that this wasn't the first time that he had thought of his co-leader like that.

He knew that he was sexually attracted to Clarke; he knew as soon as she told him that the only way the Ark would think she was dead was if she was dead. Her bravery and her stubbornness were so unlike the other girls at camp. It ensnared him.

But, nothing would happen with her. There was too much at stake to have a fling with her.

He watched her stumble again. This time, her hands flew forward catching herself. He groaned as he saw that she had fallen in such a perfect way that her rear stuck up straight towards the sky.

God damn, he thought as he dragged his eyes away from the sight in front of him. He was slowly losing his mind over her, and it was frustrating him to no end that she had this power over him.

"Jesus, Clarke. What the hell is wrong with you?" He called out, letting his temper get away from him.

Clarke whipped her head around angrily. Her striking blue eyes glared daggers at him.

"I'm trying. I just keep tripping."

"That isn't good enough. Something is going on. You are never like this." Clarke opened her mouth, but Bellamy interrupted her, "Seriously, Clarke. If you don't let me know what's wrong, you could put us in more danger."

Clarke stared at him. Trepidation cloaked her true feelings.

"Fine," she declared, "I'm in pain."

"Is it your side?" Bellamy stepped closer to her.

"No."

"Then what is it?" Bellamy asked impatiently. He had stepped in front of her and was now watching her with all of his attention.

"It's my…" she trailed off, mumbling the rest too quietly for Bellamy to hear.

"What?" he asked loudly.

"I… My feet are really hurting." Bellamy looked at her in disbelief. "These damn boots are new. They are cutting up my feet."

Bellamy froze before lowering his eyes from her face, down to her neck, quickly across her chest and stomach until they gazed at the dark boots.

His eyes darted between her face and those boots before bursting out into laughter. His deep bellowing chortle reverberated around them. Bellamy tried to stop, but one look at Clarke's face caused him to laugh louder. He could see her flushed cheeks and her eyes narrowed in contempt.

He bent forward, resting his hands on his knees until he felt like he could calm down just enough to talk to her.

Still chuckling, Bellamy clarified what Clarke told him, "So… you can't walk… because your boots... are new." He broke down again.

"Shut up, Bellamy," she growled. He leaned back grinning up at the sky at the irony of the situation. He shook his head slightly before looking at her annoyed face.

"Are you pouting?" He asked in amusement.

"No," Her pout pulled into a deep frown.

"You know you deserve this, Princess. I told you not to wear the damn outfit, but you didn't listen to me. Now, your feet hurt because you decided to wear new boots."

"You don't have to tell me that. I already know," Clarke said miserably.

"Really? Because I told you the first time, and you still decided to ignore me despite the fact that you look ridiculous," he said. Clarke shot him an angry look.

"You asked me to tell you; I did. Let's stop talking about it and keep going."

"How? You are making so much noise that we are going to alert every grounder in the area that we are here and ready to die," he responded cynically.

Clarke huffed in frustration and determinedly spun away from him. Her foot managed to catch on a fallen tree branch causing her body to lurch forward.

He quickly reached out for her. Grasping her wrist, he pulled her back upright. His hand stayed on her arm as he said, "Easy, Princess. Someone might get the wrong impression."

His eyes stared heavily at her. Her big, cerulean-colored eyes widened as she stared into his.

"And what impression would that be?" she asked quietly.

"That you are so overcome by my presence that you can barely stand?" He gave her a dimply smirk before letting go of her arm.

She faltered slightly before steadying herself. If looks could kill, Bellamy would have died, come back to life, and then died again.

"No one would think that, Bellamy. Let's go."

The rest of the afternoon was spent in silence as they hiked the now-familiar path to the village. Clarke tried to maneuver quietly, but he could see her occasionally trip. Her face would scrunch up in a pained grimace.

At one point, she stopped and pulled off her boot and sock. Bellamy internally winced as she uncovered her foot. Inflamed blisters covered the spots where skin rubbed against the hardened leather of the shoe.

He stopped and looked away as she took the time to bind her foot with a white linen bandage, cover it with a sock, and reluctantly pull the shoe back on.

"You good?" he asked her as she slowly rose up.

"I might be regretting the boots," she said dejectedly, "I need a distraction." Bellamy looked at her warily.

"And how can I help you with that, Princess."

"The other night you said that you would talk to me more. Co-leader to co-leader," she clarified.

"I'm not doing that now." He began to walk away from her.

"Just one thing," she said with a small smile.

He gave her a hard look and rolled his eyes. For once, she wasn't acting like an uptight control freak. He could at least reward her for letting go a little.

"Fine. One thing."

"What's the limit?"

Bellamy stopped and thought about his answer.

"Nothing about my family," he replied roughly.

Clarke frowned and walked forward silently as she considered which question to ask Bellamy.

Bellamy followed waiting for her response. He could practically hear the cogs in her head thinking through the most practical answer.

"I want to know about your life on the Ark."

Bellamy blanched, "That isn't exactly one thing."

"That's my choice."

"Fine, but I will stop when I want to," he said to her firmly. He tried to ignore the pleased look on her face.

"Fine. First, tell me where you lived?" Bellamy rolled his eyes at her persistence.

"I lived in the Factory Station," He began slowly. "There isn't much to say other than the fact that it was a miserable experience. I lived in a single room that I shared with my mom, and later, Octavia."

He could see that Clarke's attention was fully on him. He frowned at the dangerous implications of her getting distracted.

"You can't just focus on listening," he reprimanded, "I can't talk to you if it makes us vulnerable."

She mumbled a quick apology and diverted her attention back to monitoring their surroundings.

He continued where he had stopped, "One of the things about the Factory Station is that almost everyone was cold and hungry. We were fed the bare minimum to survive, and because the station's location is the farthest from the core of the Ark, temperatures would drop severely. My dad had died from exposure to the cold before Octavia's birth."

Clarke looked over at him quickly. Her sympathetic eyes met his before he pulled away from her.

"I don't need your pity, Clarke. It honestly doesn't upset me. He died in an accident. I don't remember very much about him, so it doesn't matter now. That's all I am going to say about that. The only thing that really upsets me about his death was that it made things hard for my mom. My mom was a seamstress who could barely make ends meet. Tack on Octavia, and you can imagine how interesting things got."

"We survived. I helped when I could, and things were fine for a while. I finished school, began to train as a guard, and helped my mom out more. I actually enjoyed training. I hated the Ark. It always felt like a prison. In the Factory Station, I couldn't move as much as I needed. When I became a guard, I had full access to the other stations and the workout facilities in the Alpha station." He smiled slightly, but it slipped into a deep frown.

"After they found Octavia, I lost everything. They imprisoned O, floated my mom, and isolated me from my former life. They never let me even see Octavia. I had no idea how she was or if she was scared."

"She didn't have the worst situation," Clarke finally interrupted.

"That doesn't make it better."

"Trust me it does. If you knew what happened in the Sky Box, then you would know how good she had it on the Ark."

"It doesn't matter that she had it 'good.' The council and their foolish rules stole my family away from me. They imprisoned my sister who had no choice in the fact that she was born, they killed my mom because she didn't want to kill her daughter, and they destroyed my life, although all I did was protect my sister. And you know what Clarke, part of me pathetically blames Octavia for most of it even though I should blame myself."

Clarke carefully chose her words. Her brows were furrowed as she thought.

"I know you love, Octavia," she finally answered.

"It isn't a question about if I do or don't love my sister. I do. But, I also lost my mom. Although I would give my life for O, there are things that you don't forget."

After several minutes of tense silence, Clarke spoke up, "I don't know what to say. I know what the Ark did was wrong, I know what my parents did was wrong."

She stared at the ground sadly, "I guess that's why I won't stop trying to save the 100. I feel responsible for my mom's choices. I feel like I need to repent for their mistakes, starting with the fact that they condemned the 100 to the ground and Mount Weather. I think that the council's need for survival created a broken system. They killed people to save the entirety of the Ark, and sacrificed individuals without thought. We can't let them recreate that here."

"How would you stop it from happening?" Bellamy asked.

"I don't know if I can. Even with my mom's help, there will always be problems. I've been thinking about some things. Before we left, Finn asked if I would give up my leadership role. I don't know what you are thinking about doing when we get our people back, but I can't do it." Bellamy looked at her in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to subject myself to the Ark's rules. You probably didn't know, but it was my birthday last week. I'm eighteen now and an adult. If we were on the Ark and not on Earth, I would be dead right now. And there are things that happened in the Sky Box that can never be erased. Why would I want to go back to the people that would have killed me?"

"You want to leave," he slowly questioned, "And here I thought you liked the structure of Camp Jaha, Princess," Bellamy said.

"I'm not a Princess, Bellamy. I don't know what you think you know about me, but things on the Ark weren't wonderful. I didn't get any special treatment because of my mom's place on the council," she laughed sardonically, "God…I used to despise when you called me Princess in the beginning; as if I was privileged when in my life has been nothing like that."

Bellamy opened his mouth to disagree. He wanted to argue with her, question her. How could she know the same hardships? She lived with two parents. They fed and clothed her. She didn't suffer like the other members of the Ark. He bit down on his cheek to keep himself from saying anything. Luckily, she didn't notice his resentment towards her parents' position on the Ark.

"I couldn't meet with the other 'inmates.' They didn't want the information about the Ark's failing system to get out, so they threw me in a room and locked away the key. The only person who was allowed to visit me once a month was my mom."

"For ten months, I only saw my mom and the guards. She wouldn't say anything. She would just bring me a piece of charcoal or something to draw with and then leave. I used to think that she blamed me for killing dad, but I guess it was the guilt that kept her from talking to me. The last month, I didn't even see her until they were pulling the 100 out of their cells for the Dropship."

Bellamy listened without interrupting her.

"I know that you think that I am a spoiled brat that had everything handed to me, but I've had to fight to live. I meant what I said about Octavia having it good. She was young and overlooked by the guards. Not all of us had that luxury."

Bellamy looked at Clarke horrified by what she was suggesting.

"Did they-"

"No. Not me. But I heard them bragging about other conquests. I dealt with the taunts and suggestions. One guard made the mistake of trying, but I stopped it. I wasn't going to let them take that from me," Bellamy could see the pain and anger in her voice.

"The point is that I'm going to keep fighting until I'm dead. I am tired of letting other people decide my fate when I am capable of doing it myself. I won't let the Ark ever be in control of my life, and I won't let them do that to the 100."

Clarke looked at Bellamy's stony glare. She waited for a response but was met with silence.

"I'm not trying to make you feel pity or anything; I just want to know where your head is at with this. I will do it alone if I have to, but I would rather know that you are on my side," she finished awkwardly.

"I am. I guess I just didn't expect this from you."

"Why?" she questioned.

"Well, for one, I figured that you would stay where it is safe with your mom. Secondly, I am surprised that you choose to share any of this with me," he murmured hesitantly.

"Personally, a lot of things have changed since we crashed on Earth," she responded. "With my mom, I decided that though I might not hate her like I did before, I am still coping with the fact that she murdered my dad and imprisoned me. She did that for the sake of the Ark. I love her, but I don't know if she would choose me or the Ark. I have to be with people I trust. In this case, I trust you. I know that we hated each other, but I think of you as more."

Bellamy felt stunned by her open confession. Clarke glanced over at her companion and laughed at the expression on his face.

"Don't read into it too much. I just want you to know that over the last few weeks, I feel like that not only can I trust you and share things with you, but I can consider you a friend. I need that right now. I think we both do."

Bellamy avoided eye-contact with Clarke. Her words were weighted with a heaviness. How do you answer something like that? If he stayed quiet, it would be like he was rejecting her.

He looked up at her eyes that implored him to speak. He could see the vulnerability shining in those cobalt-blue eyes.

"Jeez, Clarke. You can't get soft on me right when we are heading into the hornet's nest," he answered nervously. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

He watched as her face fell from his response. He felt a swell of guilt at upsetting Clarke when she was clearly asking for something more than what he gave her.

"I've got your back," he said. He tried to convey as much as he could in those four words. He couldn't exactly say it as easily as she did, but he knew that he would protect and support her.

The returning smile that he got back was worth the discomfort from sharing with her. The rest of the day was spent in a comfortable silence. By sundown, the two had reached the edge of the village.

Clarke looked at Bellamy nervously.

"We didn't think about this." She said. The two had promptly realized that they didn't know how to approach the village.

"How did we not think about this before?" He asked angrily.

"Priorities," she replied sharply, "We have no choice but to go down."

"It is too dangerous. They will see as a threat."

"What is your suggestion then?"

While they debated, they did not realize that someone had slowly approached them. The rustling of the leaves in the wind and the dusky light covered the noise of a grounder navigating its way through the brush. Delicately, the grounder slipped out one of the sharp daggers tethered to its calf and charged towards Bellamy taking the two leaders by surprise.

The small Grounder launched at Bellamy and quickly slid the small knife to his neck.

Bellamy's heart thudded in his chest. How could he have been so stupid?

Clarke carefully held her hands up in a sign of peace and began to negotiate with the Grounder.

"We need to talk to Nyko," she pleaded quietly. The Grounder shifted and loosened his grip around Bellamy's neck, but kept the sharp knife in place. The dagger sat precariously near his neck, but it was no longer digging into his throat.

"Thank you. We promise we won't hurt anyone," Clarke said. The grounder gave a throaty laugh. He leaned closer towards Bellamy and whispered, "Hey, Big Brother."

Bellamy froze at the feminine voice and quickly turned around, ignoring the sharp edge of the knife nicking his chin. As he caught sight of his little sister, Bellamy felt relief gather in the pit of his stomach.

"O," he murmured, "God, it's good to see you." He scooped her up into a huge hug. She quickly pushed away from Bellamy's tight grip, leaving him feeling confused and hurt.

"What are you doing here, Bel?" She asked.

"We need to talk to Nyko."

"No, we need to get you out of here."

"Wait, we aren't leaving Octavia. We have to talk to him," Clarke interjected. Octavia looked over Bellamy's shoulder. Her eyes widened at Clarke's appearance before narrowing into a look of pure contempt.

"You look different, Clarke," she said indifferently. "You can't talk to the Grounders. They don't want to speak with any of the sky people; especially you, Clarke." Bellamy tensed at the animosity coming from his sister.

"Why don't they want to see her?" Bellamy asked.

"She brought Finn here."

"They blame her for Finn?"

"Yes."

"I didn't send out an order for him to attack the village. I didn't even know that he was on his way here until it was too late. You know that."

He could see the emotional turmoil appear in Clarke's eyes. Despite the fact that Clarke was defending herself, he knew that she didn't believe that she was innocent. Octavia's anger just cemented the fact that she was guilty.

"You didn't have to, Clarke," she sneered.

"Octavia, stop," Bellamy barked. Octavia turned her fury on Bellamy.

"Don't defend her," she replied viciously.

"What is wrong with you, O," he asked in disbelief, "Clarke had nothing to do with the attack. Now, something is going on that we don't know about. You need to tell me."

He watched her carefully waiting for the impact of his words come over her. The angry façade faded, and tears sprung to her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Clarke," she said pitifully, "There are things that I can't tell you. Maybe Indra can, but I'm forbidden to share it with you."

"What can you tell us?" interjected Bellamy.

"Not much. I've learned a lot in these last few weeks but sharing that information would be considered treason."

"How is it considered treacherous?" Bellamy said incredulously.

"They adopted me into their tribe so…" she trailed off.

"So don't ask," finished Bellamy.

"Yeah, I guess I can tell you that the women are leaders in the tribe whilst the men are the warriors. That is pretty much common knowledge."

"That sounds about right. Women as the brains of the operations; men as the grunts," said Clarke teasingly. Bellamy shot her a dead-panned expression but secretly felt relief at her light-hearted banter.

Octavia glanced between the two co-leaders. Something seemed different from before. They were both less angst-ridden, she decided. Clarke's easy teasing and Bellamy's defense over Clarke immediately tipped off the younger Blake sibling.

She assessed them both again. Internally shrugging, she dismissed the thought.

"I will take you to Indra but you have to listen to me. She would slit your throats for the sake of entertainment. One wrong move could leave you two dead."

"What do we need to do then?" Bellamy questioned.

"You can't talk, Bellamy, at all. Men are not respected as leaders or speakers. If they knew that you were co-leaders that would be it; the slim chance that they would listen to Clarke would disappear."

Bellamy frowned. He opened his mouth to argue, but stopped.

"Fine. What else?" he barked.

"Avoid eye-contact with Indra. It's disrespectful towards a leader," addressing Clarke explicitly, she added, "Only answer her questions and answer them honestly."

Clarke nodded her head in agreement.

"That's it. Just don't forget it."

Taking a deep breath, she motioned for Bellamy and Clarke to follow. She walked out of the tree line and down the hill. Bellamy fell behind Clarke, silently shadowing her. His gaze stayed on Clarke.

He did not like the situation. They had no plan of escape and were probably outnumbered. He also felt unsure and angry over the fact that he would be quiet during the meeting.

He did not resent the fact that Clarke would take over any exchanges in the meeting with the Grounders, but he felt out of control at this complete and total exchange of power. He would have to willing keep quiet as Clarke bartered for their safety which was never Bellamy's strong point.

When they walked through the village, Bellamy and Clarke heard the reactions of the Grounders. Fearful voices rang out. Tension filled both of the co-leaders as they heard the Grounders speaking rapidly in a foreign language.

Octavia reached out and grabbed Clarke's arm forcing her to stop. They stood stalk still, waiting for something to happen. Bellamy had to stop himself from shifting nervously.

All the voices stopped. Bellamy could sense that they were being watched, but the Grounders did not attack.

A women shouted out in a harsh, deep tone. Bellamy could see Clarke flinch at the sudden noise. The women continued to speak.

"Ripa en ai gonplei gona. Gona drien!"

Bellamy recoiled as Octavia's voice rang out, "Hod op. Nowe ripa. Finn ripa. Clarke fisa ai gona." He broke his promise to keep his eyes downward. He looked in amazement at his sister. Her face held a calm composure and her eyes burned with determination.

She spoke Grounder.

When did she have time to learn their language? She had spent a small amount of time in the village, and though he knew Octavia held an intelligence that people often forgot, he did not expect her to be able to learn the Grounder's native tongue.

"Shof op, Okteivia. Yu no en gon tu yus. Yu kom Skairku."

"No! Ai laik Trigedakru," she replied. Indra gave Octavia a hard look. Her hand clamped down on the handle of her sword. Bellamy felt an icy bolt shoot through him as he realized the danger that Octavia was in. He had thoughtlessly and willingly thrown her into the lion's den.

The women stormed forward aggressively, "Jus drein jus daun!"

Octavia stood her ground. Her scowl turned deadly, "Mindr Broder. No Gonplei bakn Tatrus Lexa choinrus."

The woman seethed before her. Her hand clenched tightly on the dark blade. Bellamy tried to avoid looking the ebony skinned women in the eyes, but the compulsion to look became too strong. His eyes darted at the woman's face and saw something strange.

Though her face, with the swirling tattoos and scars, seemed rigid and hard, her eyes were brightly lit. Humor gleamed in them.

"Ai na Lexa," facing towards Clarke and Bellamy, she said, "Taim yu drag raun, taim yu ge ban au."

Clarke had managed to keep her eyes towards the mud, so she did not realize that the Grounder was speaking to her. Bellamy nudged her with his left hand, gaining her attention. She met the women's eyes for a brief moment.

The grounder spoke in their native tongue, "I will take you to the Commander. If you fall behind, you get left behind."

Without another word, she left the center of the village, disappearing into a wooden shack.

Bellamy watched Octavia warily, waiting for a sign that everything was okay.

It was a strange position for Bellamy to be in. Throughout their lives, he was the leader always keeping her safe. Now, he searched for her insight.

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><p><strong>AN: Feel free to leave reviews!**


	8. Chapter 8-Antebellum

**A/N: Enjoy Everyone! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the 100. The story is rated M for adult themes and will feature spoilers. **

Impossible by James Arthur

I remember years ago  
>Someone told me I should take<br>Caution when it comes to love  
>I did<p>

Resolutions- Chapter 8- Antebellum

Octavia gave Bellamy a small smile.

"Good news," she said, "You haven't died. Bad news, there is still time for that." She swung a balled fist at his shoulder, lightly striking the thick muscles that reside there.

"Okay, Bell. You guys look like shit," she said tactlessly, "I have a place for you to rest. It will take a few days before we leave." Bellamy began to argue on the timeline but stopped as he watched Clarke sway on her feet.

The stress and exhaustion, as well as the pain from the trip, had caught up with her. He huffed slightly before nodding in agreement. He knew that he also needed time to repose. Though it would be difficult with their present company, he needed to be calm and focused.

Octavia led her brother and Clarke towards a small hut. It looked poorly constructed and partially caved in, but Octavia seemed proud of the small, dilapidated structure. The wooden slats were tethered together with thin vines. Each plant weaved between the other planks, creating a strong base for the house.

Clarke carefully inspected the creation. She knew that if they survived and rescued the 100, the first step would be to create winterized homes at the Dropship. They would need to build sturdier cabins than this home, but Clarke carefully remembered the materials that were used in its construction.

Octavia opened the door and showed them inside the space.

"You shouldn't leave this house while you are here, Bel. The people are scared of you. You know what happens when people are hurt and angry."

She gave him a sharp look. An image of Murphy suffocating from a rope around his neck filled his mind.

"We will stay here," he quickly confirmed. As he said that, he finally looked around the space. The room held two pieces of furniture. On one side of the room, a large bed sat low to the floor. Animal skins covered a mattress made of dried leaves. A small wooden table with books, a few lit candles, and two sharpened writing tools rested on the adjacent wall.

Bellamy looked around the room questioningly, "Whose house is this?"

A look of sadness crossed his sister's face. He instantly knew that he stood in Lincoln's house.

"Never mind," he muttered. He longed to stop O's pain, but he knew that it was useless. He would be inconsolable if he lost her or someone equal important.

Like Clarke, his mind supplied unwillingly. He steeled himself against the idiotic thought. Though he liked Clarke and respected her, Octavia's pain would be different than his. She loved Lincoln. Bellamy just didn't want to be in charge alone.

It was funny how things had changed between the two of them. Initially, Bellamy hated Clarke's attempt to lead. It felt like her moral compass was leading the 100 down a dangerous path. She couldn't get the big picture.

Over time, he had respected her wisdom and maturity. He wished that she could balance those feelings, but appreciated her sensibility when things were rough.

As he thought about his female partner, he realized that they would be staying in the small hut by themselves. For days. With only one bed.

A string of expletives threatened to escape, but he managed to maintain the outward appearance that he wasn't bothered by the turn of events. Thinking optimistically, he knew that this was actually the best case scenario.

He didn't trust the Grounders. They had buried too many of the 100 for him to ever think that he would be comfortable with these people. At the very least, having Clarke in his sight might give him a little bit of comfort.

"Do you still have any food or water?" Octavia asked.

Clarke and Bellamy both nodded.

"Not much though," Clarke solemnly answered.

"Tomorrow, I will get something for you guys. With all the tension, I don't want to give anyone the chance to sneak something in it. I have my own place for the night so I will be there. I will check in on you guys tomorrow morning."

Bellamy felt his control slip a little more as he began to understand just how much Octavia had grown. She seemed level-headed and thoughtful. It was a complete one-eighty from when they had landed on Earth in the Dropship.

He watched her turn to leave for the night.

"Wait a second, Octavia. You have a lot to explain to us," Bellamy exclaimed. Clarke watched the two Blake siblings with her sharp, inquisitive eyes.

"Bel, I can't tonight. I have to meet with Indra and find out what is going on."

"Why would they include you? What did you say to her?"

"There is a lot that you don't understand. I can't explain tonight. I'm sorry."

Quickly, she slipped out the door, letting it slam shut behind her. Bellamy growled in frustration and threw his hands in the air. Clarke opened her mouth to say something, but let it go. The situation between Octavia and Bellamy wasn't any of her business.

She walked over to a corner of the bed and sat down. She leaned over, unlaced the shoe, and slowly peeled off her boots. She wiggled her toes and sighed in relief as the throbbing began to lessen gradually. She dramatically threw herself back into the bed.

Bellamy eyed her warily. He did not need the visuals of Clarke lounging in the bed.

"You can have the bed," he said hastily. Clarke sat up and frowned at him.

"You don't have to. Do you see the size of this bed? It's huge."

Bellamy's mind went straight to the gutter with her thoughtful words. A barrage of images flooded his mind. In his defense, his libido had not been soothed in quite a while.

"That's okay," he said shortly.

"Look, Bellamy. I'm not going to insist, but your other option is the floor. I know you enough that if you do choose there, you will barely sleep. It's pretty obvious that I need you healthy, not exhausted. As long as you keep your hands to yourself, it's fine if you sleep in the bed."

Bellamy's eyes darted between the bed and the dirt floor.

Choosing his usual brand of snarky, he said, "Princess. By the end of this night, you will be begging for my hands."

"You also can't be a creep," she said expressionlessly. Bellamy smirked at her in response.

Clarke yawned loudly and stretched her hands over her head, "I'm probably going to go to sleep now."

"You don't want anything to eat?"

"No. I'm pretty exhausted." Clarke settled down on the small bed. Bellamy watched as she curled herself into a tiny ball on top of the animal skins.

"Careful, Princess. Don't get your paint all over the bed." He listened for her response but was met with muteness. Bellamy chuckled as he walked over to his backpack. He pulled out a few pieces of dried meat.

He sat on the floor and quietly chewed on the tough jerky. Occasionally, he would hear Clarke groan and shift on the bed. He felt a sense of Déjà vu as he gazed at the small form on the bed.

While she was recovering from her war wounds with the Grounder, he would spend most of his time with her, carefully watching over Clarke.

The members of Camp Jaha had questioned why he did it. He gave them an excuse at the time, but he didn't fully understand why he refused to leave her by herself. At the time, he tried to dismiss the protective feelings for his co-leader as a survival instinct based on her skills. He kept her alive for her abilities as a healer and orator.

He laughed as he thought about her challenging Murphy and him. He could have killed her then, but she had the knowledge to keep his people alive. She also had the strength and intelligence to keep them together as a group.

She managed to tame an entire crowd of rowdy criminals, including himself. That alone impressed him. It also made him wary because he was not an inept teenager struggling with how he felt. He knew Clarke meant more than most, and it made him worried.

He cared for Clarke; probably more than he should. She wasn't sweet or naïve, but strong and powerful. She called people out on their bullshit and made them strive to be better; made him better.

If Clarke hadn't come down to Earth in the Dropship, he never would have attempted to be the person that Clarke saw in him. He probably wouldn't have lived for long either. The Ark would have killed him for his assassination attempt against Jaha. Her charisma and power of persuasion managed to save him.

Everything about Clarke ensnared him. Personality-wise, she didn't try to be sexy or smart. She wasn't exceptionally agreeable, and people often misinterpreted her bluntness as rudeness. But he quickly realized that those qualities weren't turnoffs.

Plenty of women were attractive, but her beauty was different. He would often find her with cuts, bruises, blood, and mud caked on her skin. Her clothes hung loosely on her body and needed to be sewn back together and cleaned, but he ignored those imperfections because she had something that other women from the 100 lacked.

She was authentic, through and through.

Her fiery personality, brains, and stubbornness challenged him. If she thought she knew better than him, she would act on those feelings. Usually, she was right about it. Her eyes would pierce through Bellamy's as she brusquely told him that he was wrong and an idiot.

It was different. Bellamy's strong personality usually dissuaded the females from the 100 from saying anything significant; they were too worried that he wouldn't want them after they spoke their mind.

He internally scoffed. They were so scared that he would leave them, but not because they loved him or anything as ridiculous as that. No, they didn't want to lose their ticket into his bed, and the bragging rights that came with it.

He watched as she squirmed and extended her arms over her head. Her top rose even more, giving him the opportunity to see the outline of her ribs, the smooth skin of her stomach, and the top of her hipbones.

Her body was also another part of her that he couldn't seem to get off his mind. Her silky, sun-kissed skin and curves hypnotized him. He lazily allowed his eyes to drift from her golden and wind-tossed curl to the prominent bones of her clavicle, down to the roundness of her chest.

Heat traveled to his groin as he stared at the tops of her visible breasts in their skintight cloth covering. Her body was twisted so he couldn't see the delicate skin along her back or her apple shaped rump in her snug, dark-colored pants.

He looked away as she restlessly moved again. He felt a small amount of shame over his depraved thoughts.

He was attracted to Clarke. Finding Clarke had cemented those feelings, and nothing could change that. He knew that he wouldn't act on it. He wouldn't let thoughts like that distract him.

Let her distract me, he corrected.

Bellamy realized that he had quietly been sitting on the floor for a long time. The cold from the night time air had seeped into the wooden shack. He stood up, shaking his stiff ligaments out.

He pulled out his canteen from his pack and took a small bowl that sat on the table. Dumping some of the water into the bowl, he used it to clean his face and arms. He took a swig of his water and swished it around his mouth, trying to clean out the taste of meat. He spit the liquid on the floor, using the toe of his boot to kick dirt over it.

It wasn't a toothbrush, but it would do for tonight. He used the bottom of his shirt to dry his face.

Mid-swipe, he stopped. He hadn't thought of the Camp Jaha but as he wished for a toothbrush, he realized that the Council hadn't expected them to be gone for more than two days, maybe three.

They will probably think we are dead, Bellamy thought morbidly.

He sighed and walked over to the bed. Looking down at Clarke, he realized that one, she was a huge bed hog, and secondly, she sat on top of the animal skins and would probably get cold during the night. Either way, Bellamy knew he would have to shift her over.

He leaned over and slowly moved Clarke into his arms. She squirmed a little bit before settling with her head against his chest. He rolled his eyes at her behavior.

After situating her in one arm against his chest, he used the other hand to tug the covers down on the bed. He laid her closer to the edge of the bed, giving both of them plenty of space. He rolled one of the skins, placed it under her head and drew one of the larger skins over her body. He finished by covering her with another one.

He walked back over to his side of the bed and pulled off his shoes and socks.

He reached for his shirt but stopped. He looked over at Clarke and debated with himself on what to do. Generally, he never slept with a shirt or pants anymore. Hell, half the time he didn't even wear boxers.

When he first arrived on Earth, he had felt too nervous about not being battle-ready, so he wore clothes to sleep.

He quickly stopped doing that when he began to wake up from nightmares about Grounders, Jaha, and his sister. He would jolt awake with wide eyes and covered in sweat. The fabric would be tangled around his skin, restricting his movements.

No, he could not sleep with them on. He grasped the hem of his shirt and swiftly pulled it over his head. He removed his pants too, setting both the shirt and cargo pants on the floor next to his shoes. He walked over to the table and blew out the candles, instantly shrouding the hut in darkness.

He carefully walked back over to the bed and sat in it. Before he laid down, he brushed off the dirt on his feet, leaned back in the bed, and dragged the coverings over his legs. He practically groaned in pleasure as he sank into the mattress.

He did not have another bedspread to roll into a pillow, so he tucked his arm and closed his eyes. He was lulled to sleep by the gentle whisper of Clarke's breathe.

The next morning, Bellamy woke up feeling extremely rested and warm.

He moaned as the light from outside blinded him and tried to roll away, but something soft had molded to the right side of his body during the night. His eyes opened wide, and he looked down at the small thing that was pressed against his chest and his leg.

His eyes grew impossibly larger as he realized that the thing baking his skin was Clarke.

During the night, both Clarke and Bellamy had moved to the center of the bed until she was lying almost fully on top of him. Her head rested on the center of his chest, and her legs entwined with his.

Her body scorched his where bare skin met bare skin.

He panicked. He needed to move her off before she woke up. Otherwise, he would be murdered before they had the chance to talk to the Grounder's leader.

He tried to disengage her legs from his and nervously shift her away.

He recalled as a fifteen-year-old watching a movie in class. They were supposed to learn about thinking critically or some bullshit thing like that, but in actuality, his teacher's husband was in trouble for something with the Council. For obvious reasons, she didn't want to teach that day.

The movie featured a detective. He thought carefully about the name. Pink Panther; the name of the film was The Pink Panther.

Right at that moment, he had the theme song from the recording going through his head as he carefully extracted himself from Clarke. Any shift in her breathing sped his heart up. He had finally rolled her away from himself when he noticed that her breaths were coming out unevenly. Little moans escaped her mouth and filled the air, going straight to his groin.

He tried to pretend to be asleep.

A few minutes, later he felt Clarke shift and sit up. He heard the rustle of clothes and felt her leave the bed.

He listened closely to the sound of feet padding across the ground before opening up his eyes. He pretended to stretch and groan as he sat up in the bed.

Clarke looked over at him and smiled softly.

"Morning," she whispered. She rubbed at her face with both hands.

"Morning," he replied roughly.

"How'd you sleep?" She yawned.

Bellamy almost answered how great it was to wake this morning, but quickly changed course with a simple answer.

"Fine. It's too damn bright in here, though." Clarke laughed at his reply.

"How about you?" he asked.

"To be honest, it was the best sleep I've had in a while." She smiled. Bellamy felt a burst of self-satisfaction at her response.

"Those beds are pretty comfy. We need to make them for when we get back." Bellamy nodded in agreement.

He slid out of the bed, stretching his arms over his head.

A small squeak escaped Clarke. He looked up at her face with concern to see her openly staring at his body. Her mouth formed a small "O" of shock. Bellamy struggled to keep in the chuckle that threatened to escape his mouth. He cleared his throat causing her eyes to rise swiftly to his face.

"Where are your pants?" Clarke exclaimed. The apples of her cheeks were tinged a light pink.

"Sorry," Bellamy retorted with a smug smile adorning his face. He walked over and pulled his pants up over his black boxers and pulled his shirt back over his head.

"What the hell!" she said angrily. She seemed to struggle with the next sentence.

"I don't like wearing pants. Hey, you can take your pants off too if it bugs you so much," he said innocently. He gave her a charming smile and watched with glee as her cheeks turned from pale pink to a rose-colored blush. He had never seen it turn that color before. It was actually pretty enticing.

"Not the point, Bellamy," she growled.

"It's not a big deal, Clarke. I swear I won't molest you in your sleep." Clarke rolled her eyes and turned away from him. Sadly, she didn't realize how close they came to that last night.

He sat down and began to lace up his shoes. He scrutinized her carefully as she filled the water bowl. She washed her face with the water repeatedly. Large amounts of paint disintegrated into the water, trickling down her neck.

"So how do you want things to go today?" Bellamy asked.

"I don't know. At this point, we are kind of at the mercy of the Grounders," she replied. She trailed her fingers across her face, feeling for any remaining paint. She found more underneath her eyes and began scrubbing vigorously.

"I know. I don't like how things are going."

"What do you mean?" She asked, turning towards him.

"These Grounders keep blaming us. The bridge, the murders, everything. We were defending ourselves, yet they play the victim role?" He continued without pause. His voice rose in volume as he talked.

"How many of our people have died? We have buried what, 17? Sterling is dead too, now. So 18. You saw only 47 others at Mount Weather. Finn, Raven, Murphy, Monroe, Eric, and I survived. Not that like that is much of an accomplishment. Do the math, Clarke. There were lives taken on both sides when you turned on the rockets, and I'm angry at this situation. I think they are going to claim that we should be held accountable for everything," his chest heaved as he took in deep breaths trying to calm down. Clarke had stopped removing the paint halfway into his rant and was staring at him with startled eyes.

"We won't. I promise. But you've got to remember that I'm not the enemy, and we can't keep thinking the Grounders are either," she walked closer to him. "Our enemy is holding are people captive in Mount Weather. Those people are the ones that will suffer if they have harmed our people."

He frowned but nodded in agreement

"It could be worse," she said as she opened up her bag and took out some food and her container of water. She sat down on the floor. Bellamy sat down, next to her and grabbed some of the food from her bag. She glared at him but allowed him to pop in a brown nut into his mouth.

"How do you figure that out?" he said as he chewed.

"Octavia's here. It doesn't seem like she is hurt."

"I guess. She seems different though. I don't like it."

Clarke laughed loudly. Bellamy glowered at her.

"She's growing up, Bellamy. It happens."

"She's only 16. I came down from the Ark to protect her. But, I've pretty much screwed up her life every way possible."

"You are too hard on yourself. She is different, but she seems more in control. I'm not saying that she was horrible or anything, but she did things on a whim. The more you tried to control her, the more she would lash out, which was dangerous for her and the others. I think she has found herself."

Bellamy looked at her stubbornly but refused to spend time arguing with Clarke. They ate quietly. Bellamy went back over to the bed while Clarke pulled out a gold hand mirror.

Breaking the silence, Bellamy asked, "Where did you get that?"

"My mom gave it to me after our meeting with the Council. She got it as a gift for her wedding from my grandma supposedly." He watched as she pulled small pots of paint out and set them on the table. She lit the candle using her flint from her bag and watched it burn for a few minutes.

Grabbing her knife from where it rested on the table, Clarke pulled a small amount of her hair forward. Bellamy observed her curiously as she used her hunting knife to saw off a half an inch of her hair and rolled the strands close together. She leaned over, blew the candle out, and dipped the chunk of hair into the hot wax. She held the strands to eye level and watched as it hardened around the hairs.

His curiosity got the best of him as he wondered what she was making.

"What are you doing?"

Clarke looked at him impatiently, "I'm making something to paint with."

He could hear the clear dismissal in her voice and took that as a hint. He went over to the table and grabbed one of the books off of the table, and went back to the bed.

Both Bellamy and Clarke became enraptured in their own worlds. Bellamy read through each of the journals, and Clarke traced all the lines on her skin as well as repainted her face.

Bellamy had finished reading the second to last journal when he heard the knock on the door. Clarke immediately dropped her make-shift paintbrush on the ground and stood up.

They stared at the door, waiting to see who would enter. Bellamy could see the eagerness on Clarke's face, but he felt wary and gripped the knife that he always carried close to his shoulder.

He practically sighed in relief as Octavia popped her head in.

"Hi, Guys. I've got more good news," she said cheerfully. "The commander is going to listen to your proposal. We leave tomorrow, morning."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading and supporting Resolutions! Feel free to review.**


	9. Chapter 9-Armistice

**A/N: Enjoy Everyone!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the 100. The story is rated M for adult themes and will feature spoilers.**

With Light, There is Hope by Princess One Point Five

Careful not to linger  
>It's exhausting<br>This different view

With you there is hope  
>In time, you will learn<p>

Resolutions- Chapter 9- Armistice

"Clarke, why aren't you looking at me?" Bellamy said in irritation.

"I'm just concentrating."

"No, you're not," he said stubbornly. Clarke bit down on her lip. In truth, he was absolutely, one hundred percent correct. After this morning, she had a hard time doing anything around Bellamy. Instead of focusing on the meeting with the Commander, her mind kept wandering to last night and the resulting fallout because of it.

She refused to look Bellamy in the eye. She was worried what might happen if she did. Would he realize what had happened during their sleep? Would he see that spark of longing that she had for him?

"Clarke…"

"Bellamy, can you just shut up. I have a huge headache, and your voice is like nails on a chalkboard."

A lie, she thought. A big lie filled with an abundance of bitchiness and juvenile brattiness, but he needed to stop trying to talk.

Every word out of his mouth was a reminder of that ridiculous, unsettling nightmare.

Clarke watched Bellamy glare at her, shut his mouth, and walk away. His boots clomped heavily on the ground. Guilt filled Clarke as she watched him flee from her bad attitude. She wanted to call him back, apologize, but she couldn't after last night.

Clarke's mind reluctantly drifted back to the dream. Heat rose in her chest as the images assaulted her mind; the sweet touch of skin on skin overruled her senses.

Even though she was asleep, it had felt so realistic. She had felt his large hands pulling her hips roughly towards him as his soft lips had forcefully descended on hers, bending and molding her to him.

Low groans had joined her own noises of pleasure as she bravely let her tongue trace his soft, sweet lips. The warmth of his mouth opening to hers left her gasping for air; their tongues raced together in a desperate battle for dominance. Her body burned with pure fire as his hands stroked the silkiness of her stomach. Her skin twitched as calloused fingers danced around the sensitive place near her hipbone, then soft as a whisper moved underneath the ridge of her shirt softly stroking over her ribs.

She moaned again. Bellamy pulled back and captured her face between his large palms. He smirked, letting his finger slide over her swollen lips.

He opened his mouth to say something, but she never heard what he said. Instead, she woke up panting, sweating, and throbbing with unfulfilled satisfaction. She had looked around for Bellamy hoping that he hadn't seen her like this, but found herself utterly alone in the little shack.

The dream gave her something that she believed, but never had proof of; It confirmed that she was pathetic. The dream showed her that even with her time with Finn, Clarke still didn't know very much about pure pleasure.

It also made her aware that there was something better out there. She blushed as she realized that it was the best kiss she'd ever had, and it wasn't even a real kiss.

It was the reason that she refused to look at Bellamy. In her head, she was hoping that if she couldn't see his eyes, then maybe she wouldn't feel so weird or think about how dark his eyes got when they smoldered at her.

She looked at Bellamy and found him walking next to Octavia. She could see them whispering to each other quietly. Occasionally, Octavia would throw her head back and laugh. It was nice because even from where she was standing, Clarke could see the happiness on Bellamy's face.

He seemed genuinely relaxed despite the small group of Grounder's escorting them to the Commander's base.

Clarke sped up and joined the group. Bellamy raised an eyebrow at her, silently asking if she was done being a brat. She gave him a small smile, making sure that she stared him in the eyes while doing so.

He rolled his eyes at her and returned the peace offering.

"O, was telling me more about her life here," he said, trying to include Clarke in their conversation.

"Oh, yeah." Octavia jumped in excitedly, explaining everything that she learned while she stayed with the Grounder village. Clarke listened attentively to Octavia as she retold her stories.

"They have animals here that are that big?" Clarke asked in amazement after listening to Octavia talk about a hunting trip that went farther into the forest than any of the 100 ventured.

"Bigger. I saw a young one, but Indra was telling me that if we had gone farther into the forest we would have seen one twice as big," Octavia explained excitedly. "It was really tasty, too."

"So you've gone out with Indra a lot?"

"Yeah, they adopted me into their tribe. Indra's been training me."

Bellamy looked at Octavia in surprise and confusion.

"Training you for what?" he asked.

"Bel, they want to keep me here. Indra's training me to be her second-in-command."

Air quickly expelled from his lungs. Clarke could see the anger harden in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but Clarke interrupted him knowing that he was going to piss off Octavia with whatever he said.

"Why would they choose you?" She asked softly, keeping her voice as nonjudgmental as possible.

"Indra lost her second. A band of Reapers attacked her when she went hunting. Later, I saved Indra's life when I was searching for Lincoln. I think she saw something in me. But there's more to it; I don't understand it entirely, but apparently, the women can't have kids easily, and even children that are born are more likely to have birth defects. The desperately need female leaders, so she chose me."

Clarke mumbled something under her breath.

"What?" spat Bellamy. Clarke turned to glare at him.

"I said that the radiation might have caused genetic mutations in their genes," she said in irritation.

"Can that happen to our people?" Bellamy wondered out loud.

"I'm not a geneticist. It's possible, but it would take several generations, and it depends on the person, the amount of radiation their bodies absorb, and their ability to process radiation. The people at Mount Weather can't process radiation, but our bodies can do it a lot better. It's one of the reasons we didn't die from radiation when we landed."

"So they can't fix it?"

The disappointment on Octavia's face was obvious. Clarke thought about it, trying to find the right words.

"I don't know," she answered simply. The three companions trailed off, allowing the hush of the forest to overtake them.

The gentle stamping of shoes, rustling of the leaves, and chirping bugs lulled Clarke into a daze. Her mind continued to run over various scenarios of the meeting. In her heart, it seemed doubtful that everything would go smoothly, but she had to have hope.

She barely noticed that they had stopped until she felt Bellamy's warm hand grab her wrist. She looked up startled by the action.

Clarke watched warily as the cluster of warriors filed ahead into a straight line through a heavily wooded space. She followed Octavia while Bellamy fell in line behind her.

The Grounders led them to a small clearing. A large gate guarded by Grounders in heavy masks blocked the group's path.

The gates made out of metal scraps and jagged spears opened as the group approached them, creating a harsh squealing sound. Clarke and Bellamy flinched away from the noise, but the others seemed desensitized to the noise.

"After you, Princess," Bellamy chimed while giving her a small nudge to the shoulder.

Clarke hesitated before setting her shoulders back. She walked to the gate, stopping suddenly at what she saw.

"How many of them are there?" she trilled in amazement. The camp buzzed with energy. From her view, a thousand warriors were milling around. Tents were strewn up between the trees, shrubs, and campfires.

Clarke could hear the light crunching of feet next to her. Indra stood next to her and stated, "You are lucky, Klok kum Skaikru. The war drums were sounding before Lexa agreed to see."

She looked at Indra, surprised by her words. She could see the hatred in the woman's eyes. Indra didn't want an alliance between her people and Clarke's people; she knew that, but she never realized how close they were to being destroyed by the Grounders. The cold, harshness in the woman's dark eyes cut into Clarke's psyche. What if their leader felt the same way? Did Clarke lead Bellamy and Octavia into a situation that would leave them dead?

"Where is Lexa?" Clarke asked strongly.

"This way."

Clarke followed Indra's lead into the camp. As they walked, people stopped and watched. Clarke could see the confusion on their faces as they stared at them. A strong woman pushed forward, clambering through the mass of Grounders. Clarke watched as her eyes opened wide before narrowing into slits. Her lone voice cried out in the noiseless clearing. Clarke flinched as she heard the pain in the women's voice.

More Grounders surged forward at the women's voice. Each person tried to get a glance of the travelers. A cacophony of noise rose around them, causing Clarke's heart to speed up.

"Octavia," Clarke called back. "Stay close to me."

Octavia ran to join her. She stopped once she reached Clarke.

"What's wrong?" She whispered breathlessly.

"What are they saying?"

Octavia frowned and looked at the Grounder's. Clarke watched her mouth speak inaudible words.

"It's a mixture," Octavia said hesitantly.

"Octavia, I need to know now."

"Some of them don't understand. They thought you were one of the leaders from Wadagedakru." Octavia saw the confusion appear on Clarke's face.

"The water village," she clarified. She stopped to listen again. Clarke waited impatiently.

"Other people recognize Bellamy's clothing. They are starting to put together that he is one of the sky people. They are angry and asking why you are here. Some of the people want you dead."

Clarke flinched again as she saw one woman throw herself against the crowd. A wild screech escaped her mouth as she tried to scramble through the men and women gathered around their group. Two of the men that escorted them from the village broke away, trying to intercept the woman.

"That group," Octavia whispered nervously, "are, um, appreciating your looks."

Clarke tore her eyes away from the women fighting desperately to break free and settled her gaze on a three lofty men who seemed to be jeering loudly. They sneered at her, eyeing her exposed skin hungrily.

Clarke could hear Bellamy growl behind her. His presence seemed to bear down on her, causing her to move quicker.

Clarke didn't know where they were supposed to be heading, but they were moving too slowly. More Grounders continued to gather around them.

Clarke looked back in time to hear the battle cry of the desperate women.

"Ripa!" screamed the women. She had finally managed to break away from the crowd.

Clarke froze as the women charged at them. Bellamy lunged in front of Clarke, shoving her behind his back. A man with a broad chest sprang forward, joining the woman. Clarke could see that the two were not alone as another group of Grounders surged forward. A hiss burst from Bellamy's lungs as he dragged Clarke into the center of their allies. The mob's hostility towards Bellamy and Clarke seemed to explode into chaos around them.

Clarke was not alone in her assessment; Bellamy could also sense the impending danger. He looked around wildly, trying to figure out a plan of escape.

"Octavia! Tell Indra that we need to move now," he yelled over the noise. Octavia nodded quickly in agreement.

"Indra, wen gaf thru heda." Octavia called forward. Indra looked over at Octavia in a bored manner before nodding in agreement. She called out to her men, causing them to swell forward.

Clarke followed in a stupor as she continued to watch the anarchy in the crowd. She could see more women and men join the group and chase after them. Bellamy shoved Clarke forward when he realized that she wasn't moving faster.

She took a deep breath and focused her attention on moving forward. She followed the group into what seemed to be the center of the camp.

A large, weathered canvas covering appeared in front of them. Clarke could see that the large tent seemed to drape over and around four large fern trees.

They were a few feet from the tent when Bellamy spoke up. "Why did they stop?" He queried.

Clarke looked over her shoulder at the crowd that had fallen silent. They stood behind them in complete silence.

"You the one they call Clarke? Come forward to me," Boomed a heavy, masculine voice. Clarke felt her heart lurch at the surprising voice.

Clarke followed the voice to a man standing outside the tent. A small Grounder woman stood nearby him. The speaker looked like so many of the other Grounder's; he had the typical darkly tanned skin of a man who lived outside. But, Clarke could sense something different about him.

Deeply set worry lines surrounded his almond-shaped eyes. They seemed to scan over Clarke, searching for something that Clarke couldn't identify.

Clarke took a deep breath and exhaled, allowing her nerves to escape. She walked forward ignoring the male. When she stepped in front of the Grounder woman, she rose her hand over her heart.

She recited the phrase that Octavia taught her, "Leksa kom Tregedakru, Ai laik Klok kom Skaikru en ai gaf gouthru klir."

She could hear the grumble of anger from the onlookers, but Clarke kept her focus on the young woman.

"I know who you are Clarke. You have already gained safe passage here. My people know that." Her hardened gray eyes turned towards the man.

"Gustus."

She made eye-contact with him and gave a nod. Without a word, he began to walk towards the crowd. Clarke's curiosity turned to horror as the man grabbed the woman who had charged at them first, and began to drag her by her hair.

He brought the woman into the center and let her body drop to the ground. A cloud of dirt rose as she landed heavily on the forest floor. Clarke looked at the cold face of the Commander questioningly. Lexa's face was frozen in a mask of cold contempt.

A sharp cry echoed out. Clarke turned back towards the women and watched as the Grounder's hands, folded into heavy fists, began to rain down blows on the woman. Hard, sharp knuckles cut into the woman's skin causing deep, ruby droplets to seep from her wounds and drop into the mud.

Clarke thought that the man would stop, but he didn't. Each bone breaking strike of flesh against flesh caused a fresh new wave of shame, guilt, and revulsion in Clarke. How could they do this to their own people?

The other observers did nothing as the woman cried in pain. All of them silently watched as if it was expected.

Clarke looked at Lexa pleadingly.

"Wait! You must stop this," she said.

"She disrespected me by disrespecting my guests. This is how it must be."

"Commander, you know why I am here. We want to try to work with you. We understand that it will take time, but we can't start a truce based on blood." Lexa's observed Clarke carefully. Her eyes scanned over the determined set of Clarke's mouth and the concerned furrow eyebrow.

Lexa took several steps forward.

"Daun ste pleni," Lexa commanded. Gustus's fist froze in midair. He looked up at Lexa and brought his bloody fist to his side.

"I will do this as a sign of peace. This will not happen again. Now, come in. We have things to discuss."

Indra, Lexa, and Gustus walked towards the tent. Clarke gave Bellamy and Octavia a signal to follow and entered the opening of the door.

Lexa sat down on a throne made of animal bones and inspected Clarke's appearance. Clarke stood straight and tall, waiting for the leader to speak.

"Clarke of the Sky People. I have a heard many things about you. Do you know that you have put me in a difficult position?"

"I can only imagine," Clarke answered.

"I have heard that you led the attack against my people and that you burned three hundred of my warriors alive."

"You're the one who sent them to kill us."

Bellamy shifted next to her, but Clarke ignored the fact that this conversation was already taking a turn for the worse.

"And, yet I hear that you are calling for a cease-fire. Is that also true?"

"It is. We do not want war. I think we can come to an agreement that will benefit our people."

Clarke watched Indra lean forward; her hand gripped a wicked-looking bone dagger.

"No! Jus drein jus daun!" she exclaimed. She took a menacing step towards Clarke.

"I know what your people want. I know that we have a lot to talk about, but we are willing to give you a fair trade."

"What can you offer us? What is this trade that you are talking about?" Lexa asked. Her indifference seemed to melt as curiosity bloomed across her face.

"I can give you life for your people. I can teach your healers methods that would save your sick." Clarke could see the grounder leader considering her suggestion.

Indra stepped forward again with a snarling expression on her face and asked, "What makes your methods better? We are better without your kind here."

"Think about how often your people die. Consider how a cut or a broken bone effects them. We can stop that. Our medicine is more effective than yours. The knowledge that we possess can help save many of your people's lives."

"Why don't we just kill your companion and force you to give us your information."

Bellamy tensed at the grounders words. Clarke felt the panic rise in her. What can I say, she thought, how can I protect my people?

Taking a cleansing breath, Clarke stated in an unwavering voice, "If you do that you will lose much more than you gain," She stared down the Commander. "You are fighting a war. The reapers are slowly killing, eating, and torturing your people. The Mountain Men are keeping hundreds of your men and warriors in cages. They are using their blood for medicine. Instead of being able to defeat this enemy, you are letting your people die."

"Do not speak as if you know our pain," Lexa exclaimed.

"We do not know everything, but we've lost people too. I want to stop those deaths from happening."

"We can't believe her, Lexa. They have been proven untrustworthy," spat Indra. "Think about what they did to Anya."

The softening in Lexa's eyes disappeared when she heard Anya's name.

"Anya believed in this treaty," Clarke said.

"She is lying."

"How do you know any of this?" Lexa asked.

"Because I was one of them."

"Lies! No one escapes the mountain" bared Indra.

"I did. With Anya. We fought our way out together."

"Another lie. Anya died in the fire. You killed her." Clarke ignored Indra and reached into her satchel pulling out a long caramel-colored braid of hair.

"She told me you were her second. I'm sure she would want you to have this." Clarke took a slow step towards Lexa, offering her the braid.

"We don't know it was hers."

"Shof op, Indra. Gustus, Indra, Okteivia kamp raun tend." Clarke watched as Gustus raised his hand to his heart and left without a word. Indra did not move at all. She looked shocked and angry at her leader. Her eyes narrowed before she raised her fist to her heart and stormed out of the room. Octavia hesitated momentarily before following the two Grounders out of the tent.

"I assume that you want him to stay," Lexa asked, pointing at Bellamy.

"Yes."

"I believe you, but I want to know more about your people. I want to know why we can trust the Sky People."

"Lexa, we are not different from you. We will live here and die here. Our people will be bleed into the ground and be buried in the dirt that your feet touch. But, we will not die from anything other than fate. We are going to destroy Mount Weather for what they did. They will not be allowed to slaughter us like animals. We will fight until they are dead in the ground. But, we can't do this without an alliance with you. One that will last. Let this be our chance to move forward," Clarke said passionately.

"What are your terms?"

"We promise three things; an alliance that will continue from this day forth, medical advice, and 25 guns with enough bullets to fill each gun twice. This is what we offer in exchange for peace. From you, we want your help in burning Mount Weather to the ground, knowledge on how to survive the Earth, and a small portion of land."

"You want our land?" Lexa looked at Clarke in disbelief.

"No, we don't want to take anymore. We want an official statement that says we are allowed on the land near our camps."

Lexa looked at Clarke thoughtfully.

"But, you have slain my people, burned my villages, and forced my people to become traitors. I will not accept such terms without justice."

"We have both sacrificed."

"My people will not agree without a fair exchange."

"What do you want?"

"We want the murderer who massacred one of my villages. I want the one named Finn."

"No!" Clarke exclaimed.

"This is the terms of our agreement. We will only accept when the boy's breath leaves his throat for the last time."

We don't kill our own." Bellamy interjected. His body was tightly clenched as he spoke through gritted teeth. Clarke looked up at him. He had been silent during the negotiations but broke his silence when he realized that Lexa wanted Finn.

"You will not speak here," Lexa demanded. She narrowed her eyes in response to Bellamy's interruption. Bellamy opened his mouth to argue, but Clarke stopped him by holding her hand up.

"Bellamy, be quiet," Clarke commanded.

The commander's head tilted as she observed the interaction. Her intelligent gaze flickering from Clarke to Bellamy before settling back on Clarke.

"Clarke…" Bellamy interjected.

"I said be quiet." Her voice was harsh and sharp as she said, "Commander, I have heard your terms. Although we need peace, we will not accept your conditions. We cannot agree to this."

"You are willing to die for one man?"

"Yes. If we are willing to betray one of our own, what will keep us from betraying you? We understand your need for vengeance, but we will not allow it." The young Grounder women solemnly looked at Clarke and Bellamy.

"You have impressed me, Princess of the Sky People. I do not want pointless death. I do not want to hear about invaders that are killing my people or unnecessarily murdering others, but in this matter, I only have so much control. I need more than a promise. I want our tribes to be locked by blood."

"What do you mean?"

"Blood must have blood. Your people have decimated my ranks, destroyed our supplies, and taken our land. My people are angry. I want you to tie your hands to us, as we will do to you."

"I still don't understand."

"We want a child."

Clarke blanched, "A child...?"

"Yes."

"Children are rare in my society. They are hard to make and even harder to keep alive. I need a second since the death of Anya. Give me that, and we will accept."

Clarke's mind began to throb as she considered the condition. Who's child? Would they be alone with the Grounders? How old? How will the child be treated? Was it reasonable?

"We need to consider your offer." Clarke stated, "We will return to our camp and see what is possible. Send a courier in three days. You will have an answer then."

The commander stood. "One day. You will have one day, and you will stay here until I know your answer." She said firmly. Clarke reluctantly nodded in agreement.

Lexa smiled and called out for Gustus. He entered the tent and stood by his leader.

"I have one more question," Lexa declared.

"Yes?"

"Your warrior. Is he a good protector?" Clarke looked at her in confusion at the change in subject.

"Yes," she said hesitantly.

"Would you leave him here under my command as a sign of good faith if you agree to my terms?" Clarke felt cold as the blood rushed from her face. She turned and stared at Bellamy in shock. His eyes narrowed into thin slits, glaring at Lexa.

Quickly, she turned back around.

"No! I will not." Lexa looked at her curiously.

"Maybe I can persuade you." Lexa looked over her shoulder and signaled for Gustus to leave and go retrieve something.

"Lexa, it is nonnegotiable. Bellamy is mine," Clarke said calmly.

"Yours? You are mated," questioned Lexa. A look of understanding crossed her face as she assumed that Clarke's reluctance was because the two Sky people were bonded. Lexa did not realize that with every word that left her mouth, it caused Clarke's heart to race faster. She had to ball her hands into fists to keep them from trembling.

"Mated?" She sputtered. She couldn't see Bellamy's reaction to the comment, but he remained quiet.

"Yes. We call it marriage here, but I do not know your customs at all. To us, marriage is binding oneself to another on an intimate level." Lexa clarified.

"We call it marriage too."

"At least we have that in common. So… are you bound together?"

"No," Clarke said sharply. Lexa frowned.

"Then you will leave him," she said. A smile graced her face as she eyed Bellamy's strong and solid form.

"No."

"I do not understand. Are you insulting me by thinking that he won't be safe here?" Clarke could see Lexa's fingers dig into her chair. Her knuckles began to turn white from her tight grip.

I need to tread lightly, Clarke thought. If I don't think fast, the groundwork for the truce will disappear.

"We are not bound… but he is my warrior, my protector," she said slowly. Clarke avoided looking in his direction.

"I understand. I would never allow Gustus to leave. It's a shame though." A voice outside the tent called out in the Grounder's native language. Lexa shouted a reply before smiling at Clarke.

"I was hoping to trade you for your warrior, but maybe I can give you this to solidify our alliance." Two humans were pushed into the tent.

Clarke looked in amazement to see Jaha and Kane stumble in. Clarke's mouth dropped open in surprise as she scanned their bodies from head to toe, searching for any injuries.

"We will escort them back to your camp."

Clarke ignored Lexa's message and took a small step towards the men.

"You're supposed to be dead," she whispered speaking only to the man who was a second father to her.

"I managed to escape," Jaha said. He gave her a sad smile. She stopped in front of him, hesitating only a moment before throwing her arms around him. He instantly returned it, pulling her to him.

"What are you doing here, Clarke? Where is Abby?" Clarke had a hard time articulating her thoughts until she realized that Lexa and Gustus were in the room. She couldn't be the scared absent-minded child that looked up to Jaha. Down here, she was a warrior and a leader. Lexa couldn't see any weakness.

Clarke pulled away from the hug and straightened her shoulders.

"Everyone is at our camp. I am discussing the terms to our truce with the Grounders."

"You're a child," he stammered in disbelief.

"I haven't been a child for a long time, Chancellor Jaha." Clarke changed subject to prevent her bitter feelings from rearing their head, "You are going to be escorted to Camp by two Grounders while we stay here and finish what we started. You need to get a message to my mother as soon as possible."

"No. I will not let a child conduct the negotiations with our enemies."

"You will do this, or there will be war," She eyed Jaha and Kane as she said this. Jaha looked helplessly at Clarke.

Kane asked, "What message do you want us to give to Abby?"

Kane's acceptance of the situation surprised Clarke. It made things easier, but she had expected him to fight against her decision. On the Ark, she had remembered that he was arrogant and often undermined her mother.

But he just wants the best for his people, she realized.

Clarke noticed Lexa listening with a hungry curiosity.

"Let her know that we have the terms and are in a cease-fire. I also want you to ask her about any orphans. Specifically ask about any girls," she said grimly.

Lexa smiled triumphantly.

"Kamp raun emo honan," she said exuberantly. Gustus and another guard marched over to Jaha and Kane. Grabbing their arms, the guards steered them out of the tent. "Clarke, I will give you your time. I have a tent prepared for you and one for your warrior."

Bellamy visibly bristled at the statement and turned his dark brown eyes on Clarke. Clarke didn't need Bellamy to tell her what was aggravating him; she already knew.

"We just need one tent," Clarke said pleasantly but made sure to leave enough steeliness in her tone that Lexa couldn't object.

"I do not care either way. Rivo, your guard while you are here, is standing outside my tent. He will escort you around the village and make sure that you are safe." Lexa stood and gave them a nod of dismissal.

Clarke and Bellamy left without another word, quickly finding Rivo. They followed him through the camp to a smaller tent.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading and supporting Resolutions! Feel free to review. In addition, I have left the link to the playlist for this story on my author page. I do recommend taking a look at it.**


	10. Chapter 10-Innocence

**A/N: Enjoy Everyone! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the 100. The story is rated M for adult themes and will feature spoilers. **

Make Believe by The Burned

Whose to give everything  
>Just to serve what they believe in?<br>'Cause that's the way you play the game of life.  
>You create the world you want to see outside.<br>And remember what it's like to play God  
>And make believe in miracles again.<br>Oh, make believe in miracles, my friends.

Resoulutions- Chapter 10- Innocence

Bellamy brushed past Clarke. Anger rolled off of him in waves. He had played the obedient servant, but he couldn't pretend any longer. He stomped over to the edge of the tent, threw his bag into a corner, and began pacing back and forth. He ignored Clarke as she cautiously moved forward.

She wisely kept quiet, waiting for the flames of anger to die, ignoring him as he tried to come up with a way to explain his feelings without allowing the string of expletives to fly from his mouth.

It wasn't like he had a difficult time coming up with a valid reason to be angry. The entire situation with the Commander's demands was enough, but he couldn't get rid of the unsettled feeling from seeing Clarke talk with Lexa.

He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling audibly.

"This is insane," he finally said. Clarke said nothing. "Tell me that it is insane."

"It's the only option," she said plainly. Bellamy stared at her in shock.

"Are you kidding me? You're honestly considering this bullshit deal?" Bellamy raged. The snarl that seemed to lurk just under the surface reappeared with a vengeance.

"Yes, I do. I thinks it will be better for the group. We need this alliance."

"What about the child?"

"We can't worry about that."

"We have to. It's a child, Clarke. That's what you are planning on agreeing to. You want to give an innocent child to these people."

"I'm looking at the big picture here."

"The big picture includes abandoning one of our own? Nice to know where your priorities lie."

"Bellamy, you know that there is more to the situation."

"Not in this case."

"We could stop a war between the Grounders by just saying yes."

Bellamy gave her a look of disgust and scoffed at her.

"We can find another way. We don't need them."

"If we want her people to live then we do need them."

"You are just like your mother, Clarke. Sacrificing one person to save the rest of the people," he spat at her. He stared into those cerulean eyes, waiting for her reaction, hoping that she would stop this crazy idea. He watched as her eyes tightened into narrow slits.

"That's a low blow," she said tightly.

"So what! Am I lying?"

"There is more to consider."

"Isn't there always," Bellamy said sarcastically.

"You know what, Bellamy. I get it. I completely understand where you are coming from, but leaving a child with the Grounder's is not the worst thing in the world. From what we have seen, they care about their children out of necessit-"

"You just saw Lexa order her soldier to assault a woman because she stepped out of line!" interrupted Bellamy.

"The Ark floated hundreds because they stepped out of line! We aren't better than them. You have to stop thinking that you are," Clarke whispered harshly. Bellamy took a few steps, crossing the room until he was standing a foot away from her small frame.

"If you are so willing to sacrifice one person, then why not take the original deal. Why not give them Finn? He would be better than a defenseless kid."

"Why are you getting stuck on that fact that it is a child?"

"Are you serious? You can't understand at all why I am against giving them one of our children? I raised Octavia by myself. I was her brother, friend, and father wrapped up in one package. Octavia's my reason! If I were dead or gone, I wouldn't want someone to randomly throw her in with a group of savages, and it disturbs me that you think this isn't a big deal."

"They aren't savages, Bellamy. And I never said that it wasn't a big deal, but it's our only option without causing causalities. Finn would die; the child won't."

"There is another option," he said. "I can go to Mount Weather by myself." Clarke began shaking her head before he even finished the sentence.

"There is no way."

"If you could get out of Mount Weather, then I can go in."

"No, Bellamy! We are taking the deal," she shouted severely.

"That's interesting, Princess, because if I remember correctly, I don't take orders from you. Give me a good reason that makes the trade our only option."

"Mount Weather should be reason enough."

"It isn't, so give me a better one," Bellamy seethed.

"If you go in there, you will die. They will kill you."

"Going to war with the Grounders as allies could kill me. Try again."

"That's the best reason I have! I don't want you to die! Everyone that I care about leaves in one way or another. I can't lose you too," she screamed in anger. The skin on her cheeks was flushed as she practically fought to get enough air in her body. He could see her hands shaking where she clenched them at her side. Bellamy knew that she had reached her limits with this conversation. The openly hostile scowl on her face and the way her usually crystal blue eyes seemed hazy and glassy told him that she her walls were on the verge of disintegrating.

"Clarke," he said softly, "you know I could do this."

"When I tried to escape, I almost died. I found the room of Grounder's, saw their bodies hanging broken from the ceiling with their blood draining into tubes. If that happened to you… I just can't let it happen," she finished in a broken stutter.

"It wouldn't."

"It could. Please, Bellamy. Let me try before you decide that dying is the only way. I need you." Bellamy paused as he watched her face falter into a pleading look.

"Fine, but I want us to renegotiate on the child's behalf. The girl needs to be safe."

"Okay. We will talk to Lexa tomorrow about the details," Clarke agreed readily. The unshielded relief on her face caused Bellamy's chest to ache. He rubbed the spot before turning away from her.

He needed clarity and time alone from Clarke to digest the information.

"I'm going to go for a walk. I need to think about this."

He could hear the anxiety in her voice as she asked him if he was alright. He waved her off and exited the tent. He stopped short as he saw Rivo standing watch several feet away from the tent. His eyes were set away from the tent as if he had not heard their argument, but with the thin material of the tent, Bellamy knew that he probably heard every word.

Bellamy ignored that fact and calledRivo over. He let the man know that he was going to explore the camp. The man merely nodded and followed Bellamy towards the perimeter of the felt calmer as he walked back from the edge of the had spent the afternoon showing him the camp.

* * *

><p>Bellamy felt calmer as he walked back from the edge of the woods. Rivo had spent the afternoon showing him the camp.<p>

Initially, Bellamy resented the man's company and wished that he was alone with his thoughts. Of course, Rivo ignored his claims of needing space. The Grounder stated that his presence might dissuade any attacks, but it seemed like after the incident with the mob, tension had settled down in camp. Although Bellamy did receive heated glances and heard the occasional "ripa," the Grounders did not approach him and tried to ignore his existence in the camp.

Though it had taken a majority of the walk, Bellamy was able to gain some perspective on the situation with the treaty. He knew that part of his anger over the terms of the truce were because of his own bias. The Grounders murdered so many of the 100 but seemed to expect so much from the Sky People.

And, to be honest, it pissed him off that Clarke wanted to work with them, but he had to start thinking of these people as more than their enemy. Walking around and observing the camp seemed to be a good start.

As he watched them working around camp, he reluctantly accepted that these people weren't the monsters that the 100 originally saw them as.

He hated to admit it, but the Grounders were very similar to the 100. They each had a role to play in creating the community. The woman were organizing and cooking while the men were lifting items and building structures. It seemed like a typical male-dominated society, but then he would observe the men and women switch roles.

A closer inspection made him realize that that they weren't assigned tasks that were meant for the females or the males. They were working together to accomplish their goals and survive.

His mind became more open as he continued to observe their interactions noticing how humanizing their actions were.

At one point, Bellamy noticed a young man lightly brush the cheek of a Grounder woman. The soft touch was innocent, but he could see in their eyes that they cared, and perhaps, loved each other. When she walked away to join another group of woman, the group circled around her, whispering and giggling at her display of affection.

He watched in amusement as she lightly swatted at a friend's shoulder; the light skin of her cheeks turned a dark red as she chastised the other girl for her silliness. It was that moment that made him see the Grounders as being more than just savages.

He found that he could also see that the Grounders shared similar personalities to the members of the 100. In particular, Bellamy realized that Rivo was comparable to Miller. Miller had been one of the few men that he trusted back at the Dropship. With a good heart and unbreakable amount of loyalty, he was Bellamy's go-to-guys.

Bellamy didn't know a lot about Rivo, but he quickly grew to enjoy Rivo's company. He didn't speak much, but when he did, it was important. He clearly didn't trust Bellamy, but he was curious about the Sky People and would ask small questions about the space or how they lived.

Bellamy finally decided to call it quits for the day when the sky had faded to a dark blue and the sun had disappeared behind the trees.

Rivo was leading the way when Bellamy heard the sound of someone crying for help. Bellamy froze as he realized that he recognized the tortured scream of his co-leader. His blood felt like it would explode out of his chests as the ragged shriek pierced his heart.

He turned and looked at Rivo. The young man's eyes were wide with disbelief. That look of surprise kicked Bellamy into action. He broke into a sprint in the direction of their tent.

Dread turned to terror as the night became dead silent. He could no longer hear Clarke's screams. He pushed his feet to go faster, weaving through the tents and ducking around the objects in his way.

Bellamy felt a small sense of relief as his eyes locked onto the tent ahead of him. He raced towards it, tearing back the entrance to the tent and throwing his body into the small space.

"Clarke!" he bellowed when he saw the sight before him.

He could see Clarke on the floor with a man sitting on top of her, pinning her small frame to the ground. One large, meaty hand was tightly wrapped around her throat, while the other hand tore at her body, scratching deep gouges into her skin and ripping at her clothes. Clarke's small hands desperately clawed at the hand around her neck, trying to push away the large man.

Bellamy looked on in horror as her face turned a frightening shade of red. Her pale lips were tinged blue from the lack of oxygen. He could hear the small choking noises escaping from her mouth.

"Quint, let her go!" shouted Rivo. The man looked over his shoulder in surprise, relaxing his grip around Clarke's throat. Bellamy exhaled in relief as the man's distraction gave Clarke the opportunity to breathe easier; she gasped in the air.

Bellamy's relief quickly turned into panic as he saw the man eye Rivo before turning back to Clarke and doubling his efforts on ending her life. He could see her eyes snap open in terror as Quint's fingers squeezed harder around her neck. A strange hiss escaped her gaping mouth.

Bellamy tried to lunge forward, but Rivo grasped his hand and pulled back. Bellamy reacted instinctually and pulled his arm back, landing a punch on the warrior. He ignored the shooting pain in his hand and turned back to Quint and Clarke. He was about to tackle the man, only stopping when he saw the knife in Quint's hand.

"Don't do this," Bellamy pleaded. His eyes were frozen on Clarke's face. He could only watch as her face turned purple, and her bloodshot eyes rolled into the back of her head. Her arms fell limply to her side.

"I have to. She must die." The man said.

"Do you really want war with our people? If she dies, then that is all you will have. Let her go!" Bellamy growled. The man raised his knife above his head.

"Let us have war then," he said quietly. He quickly brought his arm down ready to take Clarke's life.

Bellamy roared in rage and dove forward. As he was reaching for Clarke, a glint of something silver whizzed past his head. Quint let out an inhuman howl of pain as the edge of a blade sunk into Quint's flesh.

He looked behind him where Rivo was standing. One arm was extended out in front of him. The other hand held another blade, ready to throw it if necessary.

Bellamy didn't hesitate when he turned away from Rivo and pulled the Grounder off of Clarke, throwing him towards Rivo.

"Tie him up," he growled. It took everything in him not to turn back and finish killing the man, but his focus was on Clarke. He gently placed his hands against her neck. His fingers brushed against the red, bruising skin and up to her pulse point. He waited a moment before sighing in relief as he felt the gentle thrumming through her skin that signaled that she had lived.

He glanced over his shoulder after discovering that she was alive only to find that Rivo was struggling to keep Quint restrained. The man was twisting and turning in the other Grounder's arms. The fury in Bellamy exploded. This man had nearly killed Clarke. It was his hands that left marks on her neck. His hands that had scratched at her skin and ripped her clothes. He was the reason that she was unconscious on the floor.

Bellamy flew at Quint in a blind rage. Fist after fist slammed into his face, chest, and stomach. Pain shot through his hands, but it didn't deter Bellamy. Instead, the pain fueled his anger. Clarke almost died.

He didn't see the blood racing out of Quint's crushed nose or the immediate swelling on his face due to his knuckles striking the man's cheekbones, nor did he hear the snapping of bone under his hand or see the spray of blood burst from the man's mouth.

The only image in his mind was Clarke's face, and that moment when fear turned to acceptance as she realized that she was going to die.

He couldn't break the consuming anger until Rivo let go of the unconscious man and tried to intervene.

"Stop, Bellamy," He said. "You can't get the answers you need if he is dead."

Bellamy shoved the Grounder out of his way, completely ignoring Rivo's logic. Quint needed to die tonight.

He would die tonight.

He raised his foot up to kick the man's skull in, and would have finished the job if he didn't hear the feminine, gurgling cry behind him. He instantly froze and looked down in horror at the man's broken and bloodied body.

He didn't regret the pain that he inflicted on Quint, but he had left Clarke on the floor alone to accomplish his goal. He stumbled back and turned to Clarke. When he reached her, he immediately fell to the floor, delicately stroking her face.

"Clarke..." he whispered.

She moaned in response. Her eyes stayed tightly sealed together.

Bellamy's lip pinched tightly together. He looked over at Rivo with anger and mistrust burning in his eyes.

"Tell your Commander that I want him alive until I can handle it tomorrow. If he is dead or missing, our agreement is off the table."

Rivo nodded in agreement before calmly saying, "Let me get my healer. He can help."

"We don't need your help. Give the Commander my message. Otherwise, leave us alone." His words were hateful and spiteful. Any understanding built between the two men during their exploration of the camp was destroyed by the attack.

Rivo's face hardened under Bellamy's glare. He solemnly put his hand over his heart and left the tent.

Bellamy immediately leaned back over Clarke. He felt helpless as he listened to her rasping breaths.

Should he pick her up? Would it hurt her more?

Part of him wished that he had accepted the Grounders' help. He didn't know anything about health or medicine. He could wrap up a bleeding cut or stitch something up, but he left the other tasks to Clarke.

Giving Clarke one more hard look, he gently lifted her head into his left arm and scooped the rest of her body up. He stood and walked over to the area on the floor that held piles of animal skins. It wasn't the mattress in Lincoln's hut, but it was better than the hard ground. He placed her on top of a smooth, muddy-colored fur covering, then walked over to a corner of the room that held food, a bowl, and a metal pitcher of water. He poured a small amount of liquid into the bowl, watching as it sloshed around the edge of the clay dish.

He stared at the water in the bowl. His reflection gazed back at him. He could see the dark circles under his eyes, the way his brow seemed to hold a permanent crease, and how the corners of his mouth seemed to tighten into a straight line of displeasure. He sighed deeply, and turned away from the translucent image. He walked over to Clarke's bag, pulling out a clean white bandage.

It might be wasteful, but he wanted to somehow wipe away the cuts on her skin, maybe erase the evidence that Quint had almost destroyed her vitality. He dipped the cloth into the water and squeezed out the excess water.

He strode over towards Clarke and sat on the floor next to her. He froze as he looked at her body. Red marks danced across the length of her skin, mixing in with the fresh bruises on her neck and wrists, and blending with the deep scratches on her stomach and cheeks.

He could still her the wheezing in her throat as she gently breathed in and out. He shook his head in disgust before placing the bandage over his skin. He gently wiped away the droplets of blood and the dust on her skin before leaning over her body to wipe her face.

He was happy to see that the paint easily came off on the bandage too. The old Clarke was much better than this false version. She was not a Grounder; they were evil and cruel, murderous and vengeful, and Clarke wasn't that type of person. She did not need to swirl paint on her skin to gain the respect of the Grounders.

He brushed the soft, damp cloth on her face lightly circling her cheekbone and the scrape on her forehead. In his mind, he was documenting each and every injury, letting it fuel the burning pit in his stomach.

"They all deserve to die for what they have done to us, Clarke," he muttered angrily.

"Do they really, Bel?"

Bellamy startled at the sound of the voice, blindly reaching for a weapon, but quickly stopped when the surprise faded and he could see that the voice belonged to his sister.

"What the fuck, O? I could have hurt you."

She ignored his indignant retort. "What's going on? I heard yelling and saw that they dragged off one of their leaders."

"He was a leader?"

"I think so."

"Well, he tried to kill Clarke." Octavia gaped at him and looked over Bellamy's shoulder at the sleeping figure on the floor.

"Is she okay now?"

"I don't know, O. I think so, but I am not a goddamn doctor."

"Let me get a healer then."

"No fucking way!" spat Bellamy.

"So what, you hate all Grounders now?"

"I never started liking them, Octavia. Clarke wanted to come here to reach an agreement with these savages, not me."

"I never would have thought that you would be so ignorant. Out of all the Sky People, you should know how hard it is when you are being judged for trying to survive."

"What are you getting at?"

"Because of mom and me, you had to scrounge around to survive. You had a shit job, no money or food, and you lost any chance at a normal life. You shot Jaha so that you would survive. That's how the Grounders feel about the Sky People. They want to survive, and they don't want to follow orders or agree to a truce with people that they don't trust."

"They are targeting the treaty." His tone was dark with the realization. Octavia nodded her head in agreement.

"And Quint probably isn't working alone," she added.

"I still want him dead," he gritted out.

"I figured you would. You're a good person, but you go overboard for the people you love."

"And that's a bad thing?" he asked in disbelief. He rose an eyebrow at her.

She rolled her eyes at him. "No, but I don't want you to lose that part of you that is good. There was a point where I thought you lost it. When you tortured Lincoln, all I could think was you're a monster. I know you aren't, but I'm worried that if you kill Quint or act out in revenge, it will make you lose sight of what's important."

"If he lives then he could try to kill Clarke."

"Trust me when I say that once Lexa learned about this, there was no way that Quint was going to survive. No one can disobey the Commander. Just don't be the person that ends his life." Bellamy watched her carefully. With her arms folded over her body and the stern look on her face, he couldn't help but acknowledge that in the short time they were separated she had grown up. She wasn't the same kid from space.

"You're different, you know? I'm really surprised," he said, giving her a sideways look. "I'm proud of the person you are becoming." She looked at him in astonishment before her wide eyes narrowed slightly. The mischievous gleam in them shined brightly.

"Whatever, Bel," she said playfully, rolling her eyes at him again. "Make sure you wake Clarke up soon. She needs to be up to see Lexa tomorrow before Quint's execution."

Bellamy agreed and watched as she left the tent. He sighed and scrubbed his hands through his dark hair, letting his long fingers pull through the wild curls.

"Bellamy…"

Bellamy looked up and saw Clarke's blue eyes staring at him.

"Clarke," he breathed. "You're up."

"Yeah," she rasped.

"How do you feel?"

"I'll heal."

"Good," he cleared his throat. "It would be kind of awkward explaining to your mom that you were dead." A look of amusement touched her face as her pale, cracked lips curled up into a small smirk.

"You are an ass."

He shrugged his shoulders and smirked back at her, but quickly stopped as her face morphed into a look of fear.

"What happened to that man?"

"He is alive, but not for long." He looked at her drawn face. The bruises seemed heavy on her face, aging her ten years. "What happened Clarke?"

She looked startled by the question, but quickly answered, "He came in, threatened me, attacked me, and then you walked in."

"That's it?"

He scrutinized her as she answered. He recognized the stubborn set of her jaw as her eyes blankly met his.

"Yes, that's it."

He knew that there was more. Clarke was hiding something, but it wasn't his place to push her. If it were life-threatening, she would tell him. There was no way she would hide something so important, especially if it had to do with their survival.

"Okay. Tomorrow we are meeting with Lexa to figure out what it means for the truce," he stated.

"Got it."

"Why don't you get some rest?"

"Are you going to sleep?"

"No, I'm going to keep watch. I can't let my guard down again."

"It's not your fault, Bellamy," she whispered softly. Her eyes implored him to see reason. "They want me dead. Tonight was bound to happen."

"It won't on my watch."

"Please, Bellamy. I don't need that. I'm sure Lexa will post a guard to stay the night. Can… can you just lay down here with me," she requested.

Bellamy hesitated. He wanted to keep them safe; keep her safe. His mind couldn't relax with the knowledge that they could be murdered in their sleep or that Clarke could be stolen away during the night.

Clarke's eyes never left his as she pulled up the bedding as a silent invitation.

Bellamy looked at her soft blue eyes, feeling his resolve weaken as he took in her innocent offering. He kicked off his shoes and quickly slipped under the sheets. Clarke immediately shifted closer to Bellamy, slipping her way into the space next to him. He stiffened as he felt her warm arms slip around his waist. Heat seemed to radiate through the worn fabric of his shirt.

He looked down at her head which rested on his chest. He wanted to say something to make the guilt in his chest disappear, but only three words seemed to come in mind. He listened as her breaths seemed to even out, signaling that she was asleep before letting the words spill out.

"I'm sorry, Clarke."

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><p><strong>AN: Please feel free to leave comments or reviews! They are definitely welcome.**


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